Under the Dragons Protection
by Ms. Dependent
Summary: NOTE2 ADDED Draco isn't the person he used to be. After switching sides in the last year of The Final War, he, Harry, and Ron have become good friends. Now, years later, Hermione is in danger and Harry and Ron believe that he's the only person who can hel
1. Chapter 1

Title: Under the Dragons Protection

Author: Ms. Dependent

Rating: PG-13 - R

Disclaimer: It's not mine. JKR rox me sox

AN- I have completely ignored HBP in this, though I do love the book. This is post Hogwarts about 4-5 years later.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Chapter 1**

Hermione Granger stared at the man who might be trying to kill her.

She shifted the slots of her window blinds slightly to get a view of the dark London street down below her. The yellowish glow cast by the old fashioned gas lamp fought a losing battle with the cool April night.

The man sat motionless on the bench across the street, his face in the shadows.

He'd been there last night, too.

She'd noticed. She made a point of noticing. More than four years as a member of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad did that to a person. She'd been a lot more naïve out of Hogwarts.

A nice research job should have been the next rung on the ladder. Her family had certainly expected it of her. And her best friends, who she helped defeat Voldemort, earning themselves an place in the order of Merlin, 1st class along with enough reward money that they would never have to work again, certainly had.

Instead, she'd surprised them all. She'd gone for the tough law enforcement job. And not even as an Auror.

Nope. She'd gone for the down and dirty: putting away the common death-eater wanna-bes that have been terrorizing muggles around England.

She looked down at the man on the bench. Of course she would surprise everyone more if she wound up dead in her apartment, cursed by the mystery man sending her death threats. She didn't want to make that her encore.

She held her breath while the man on the bench shifted. As he stood up, she strained to get a better view but couldn't make out his facial features in the dark. What she could tell is that he was tall and solidly built, with white-blonde hair and dark clothes.

She watched as he scanned the street up and down and then made his way toward the house. Was he heading for her?

Her heart began to pound, her breath catching in her throat. _GET OUT YOUR WAND!_ the rational part of her mind screamed.

The man below passed under a street lamp and her mind pulled the emergency break on her thoughts

_She knew that face._

Suddenly fear was replaced by anger. Not the simmering variety of anger, either, but a full-blown boil. The type that Harry or Ron would have recognized as a sign to dive for cover.

She headed for the staircase of the redbrick townhouse that she called home, heedless of the fact that she was dressed for bed in a short silk slip and matching robe. When she got down stairs—the back of her mind taking note that she hadn't heard a knock or bell—she undid the locking spell on the front door and yanked the door open without ceremony.

"Hello, Granger."

Hermione felt the same rush of energy she always did at this man's presence, quickly replaced by an undercurrent of pulsing tension.

He had a lithe but muscular physique, one which usually reduced women to giggles and flirtatious banter. But not her. They had too much of a history for that, and she doubted his presence on her doorstep tonight was a mere coincidence.

She crossed her arms and snapped, "Lost, Malfoy? The last time I checked this was too much of a muggle neighborhood for pure-bloods like you."

He had the audacity to look amused, his gaze raking her. "And your still the newly discovered diamond. Just like I remembered."

"If you know anything a bout diamonds, you'll remember there the hardest stone around."

"Oh, I've known about diamonds longer than you, Granger," he said, tapping his finger to the tip of her nose as he sauntered inside without invitation, forcing her to take a step back. "And I've discovered they're a choice gift for women in our class."

She yanked her mind from the image of Malfoy picking out diamonds for his girlfriends. Probably at someplace exclusive that even with her new money she would never be able to get into.

She slammed the door shut behind him and muttered the locking spell. "Make yourself at home." Sarcasm was easier than thinking about him looming in her dark house with no company but he and the turbulent feelings he unerringly evoked in her. "I'm sure you'll tell me in your own good time just what you were doing studying my house in the middle of the night."

"What makes you think I was studying anything?" He peeled of his muggle jacket and tossed it onto a nearby chair.

She rubbed her chin, pretending to contemplate that as she followed him up into the living room and watched him turn an a lamp. "Oh, I don't know. . . could it be the fact that you were sitting in that park across the street, watching my house for the last half-hour?"

She watched as he glanced around the living room. Framed photographs were every were, the ones of her friends were moving and waving, while the ones of her family stay still. She felt exposed and vulnerable, her life on display in so many telling snapshots.

She moved into the townhouse after selling her condo last year. Her best friend, Ginny, who had taken up a muggle obsession to rival her fathers had helped her decorate with a even mix of muggle and wizard style.

He turned back to her. "Nice digs." He bent down and gazed at a picture of her in a bikini on the beach in the Caribbean, laughing back at the camera as Ginny tried to make her wear muggle swimming fins. "You filled out nicely, Granger, once you finally got through puberty."

She gritted her teeth. Despite the fact that Draco Malfoy had joined the trio after befriending Harry and Ron during the war. Though Harry and Ron were like brothers to her she never felt comfortable thinking of Draco as one. He was hardly her friend. Impatiently, she asked, "Why are you here? And more importantly, why were you lurking outside my house so late on a Thursday night?"

He straightened and shoved his hands in his pockets, his jaw hardening. "Did I scare you? Did you think I was that piece of scum who's been owling you those nasty little love notes?"

"No!" She realized a second to late that the vehement denial sounded exactly like the bald-faced lie it was, but his mere presence had set her on edge. She supposed one of her friends—probably Harry—had mentioned to him the threats she's been getting.

He lifted an eyebrow, his tension easing a fraction. "what? Never thought you'd be glad to see me instead?" His lips twisting into his legendary smirk.

"Get real." In fact, she had been relieved it was him in the split second before anger had step in. "And you're evading the question. What are you doing here?"

He walked over and leaned against the back of the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him, feet crossed. "Just doing my job"

"Just--" She stopped as an unwelcome thought intruded and her eyes narrowed.

He cocked his head. "you were always a quick study, Granger. Though, I have to confess it is fascinating to watch the wheels turn in that cute little head of yours. I believe all you are missing is the red hair. You've got a temper to rival Ron's."

"Get_ out_."

She watched his eyes narrow and his lips set in a firm line. "Now is that anyway to treat the guy who's here to protect you?"

She stood into the room and whirled back toward him once she got to the fire place. She couldn't believe this was happening. "I don't know who hired you, Malfoy," she said crossing her arms, "and, frankly, I don't care. You may own the best security firm in the magic world, but your not wanted or needed here, got it?"

Pushing away from the couch, he folded his arms, looking as easy to move as a boulder up a mountain. "Based on what I've heard, I'd say I'm definitely needed around here. As to whether I'm wanted," he shrugged, "I've been asked to do a job and its going to get done."

Want. Her mind zeroed in on that one word, then quickly backed away. Whatever she felt for Draco, that certainly wasn't an apt description.

True, with silver eyes framed by long, thick lashes and white blonde hair flowing around his face, he was model material. But her mind was all overshadowed by the fact he was condescending and annoying. Not to mention an untrustworthy snitch.

She hadn't seen him since Harry and Ginny's wedding a few months back, but there paths hadn't crossed much lately. He is as familiar to her as a member of her family. He, on the other hand doesn't have any family Having lost both his parents to the war before they graduated from Hogwarts. Recently he's spent most of the holidays with the Weasleys.

She'd placed her hands on her hips. "There's no way you can do this job if I'm telling you that you _can't_."

He rubbed his chin, seeming to contemplate that for an instant. "Since the Potters still own this house," he nodded around him, "because you haven't gotten around to closing the deal with him yet to purchase it, I'd say you're wrong about that. So, first thing we're going to do is make sure the security at the bachelorette pad is up to date."

The familiar Urge to throttle Draco Malfoy was coming over her again. True, she didn't own the townhouse, but that was a mere technicality. The house stood empty for 3 months after Ginny convinced Harry to buy it, But Hermione had fallen in love with it and offered to buy it from them. In any case, she didn't need a bodyguard. "If I need protection, _I'll_ get it."

His lips thinned, his gaze holding hers. " That won't be necessary, because I'm planning to stick to you like a Australian to a Billywag until we get to the bottom of who's been sending you death threats howlers and cursed mail."

I can take care of my self. I spotted you lurking around outside on that bench, didn't I?"

The thin line curved up into a humorless smile. "What about that guy standing on the street corner? Don't tell me you missed him?"

She had.

He raised an eyebrow, seeming to read her silence for the admission it was.

"You can't be sure that was in anyway connected to me." She knew she was right but never the less her heart tightened.

"You're right, I can't. But he popped out of there faster than a snidget as soon as I decided to test my theory by crossing the street."

"And you didn't stop him"

He shrugged. "how could I be sure he was after you?" he asked, tossing her words back at her.

At her impatient look, he added, "Anyway, It was too late, Before I could take out my wand he had already apparated. So, instead, I came to your door thinking at least I'd get thanked by the damsel in distress for running off the bad guy."

"Now that you've run him off, would you mind running off yourself?" Even if she needed extra protection she could arrange it herself. The last thing she wants is a bodyguard hired by her overprotective friends, not to mention how distracting and annoying Draco was.

His brows drew together. "You really don't get it do you, princess?"

She pretended to look bored. "I suppose you're going to explain so that I can 'get it'" She stood her ground as he strode towards her. If he thought he was going to intimidate her, he had another thing coming.

"You suppose right." He stopped mere inches away.

She hat to tilt her head up to keep eye contact with him and caught the muscle tensing in his jaw. She ought to take perverse satisfaction that, as much as he unsettled her, she seemed to have the uncanny ability to annoy him as well.

"Working for the Law Enforcement Squad may give you the idea that you know about dark arts," he growled, "but you don't." He looked her over. "which leads me to wonder why you didn't stick with your little research hobby everyone at school expected you would be first in line to volunteer for. Why bother with the Squad?"

She gritted her teeth and begged for patience even though outrage bubbled in side her. "This isn't a hobby. It's a career."

She knew he had a rough childhood, growing up to fast and being forced into Voldemorts service until his parents died. But that didn't give him the right to tweak her nose about the fact that she compared to him, had everything come easy. He never played that card with anyone else.

Malfoys eyes narrowed. "You've made a career out of looking for a thrill, haven't you, Hermione? I've wondered why you cant just take your rewards and settle down."

She glanced around for something to throw, then decided it would be a pity to waist some heirloom against his hard head. And, besides, she'd be playing into every preconception he had about her. "so sure you know it all, don't you? Except, guess what? I'm no longer some teenage girl whose plans you can ruin."

He looked at her accusingly, his silver eyes darkened. She could tell from the flare of his nostrils that he had his temper on a very short leash.

"Still can't forgive me for that one, can you?"

She arched her brow and ignored the way his nearness was coaxing every cell in her body into oversensitive awareness. "Don't flatter yourself."

He had the height by a good six inches over her five-foot-eight frame, but she was used to holding her own against Harry and Ron who similarly bested her. "Saying that I can't forgive you implies I still care about what happened, which I don't."

His lips thinned. "Yeah and you don't seem to have learned a lesson from it either."

"Oh, I learned," she countered. "I learned I couldn't trust you."

"You were a naïve seventeen-year-old kid who thought she could do something herself that she couldn't handle. What did you think, that I would let you walk into danger all by yourself."

"And you weren't my keeper!" She didn't add that she was relived then when he showed up with Harry and Ron to help her out, But was angered that he saw him only as a little girl who cant do anything herself.

"Aloud, she said, "I'd say you're just as guilty as I am, Draco, of not learning lessons from the past. You're still acting like my keeper when your not."

He finally seemed to be pushed over the edge. "Damnit! Are you that stubborn that you won't accept help when you need it? When your life may be in danger?"

"Stubborn?" She tilted her head to the side. "Seems to me you could write a book an that subject."

She started to brush past him but he grabbed her arm and forced her gaze to his. His expression was stormy, his brows drawn together and his lips compressed. "Stubborn, thickheaded. . ."

She braced her hands against his chest. "Likewise," she retorted. They were practically nose to nose, and beneath the adrenaline pumping through her veins a little thrill of excitement intruded having finally shaken his control.

His head swooped down then, cutting off her gasp of surprise as he seized her lips in an angry kiss. His lips moved over hers with hard pressure, and, when she would have jerked away, his hand came up to the back of her head to anchor her in place.

"Mmm. . . . !"

Back before the trust incident, she'd admit to dreaming about what it would be like to be kissed by Draco Malfoy. But none of the scenarios had been like this. He kissed the way he did everything: with a cocky confidence that took no prisoners.

When they finally pulled away, their breathing was rapid as eyes met. His silver ones challenged, as if he was daring her to make some flippant comment about what he'd done and what invisible lines had been crossed.

Her mouth opened to accept the dare, but when his gaze shot downward and narrowed, she clamped her lips together again. The tense moment stretched between them. She was acutely aware of how close he was, of the leashed energy emanating from him.

And then, without knowing exactly how or why it happened, she was in his arms again and his lips were on hers in an instant and she was responding the way she used to dream about, except now she could do a little real-life comparison.

His lips, for one thing, were softer and smoother then they looked. They slid over hers, molding and caressing, coaxing a response. His hands didn't roam, instead they exerted a subtle pressure between her shoulder blades and at the middle of her back.

He didn't make a sound, but focused all his concentration on giving and receiving pleasure from the strokes of his lips against hers. Whereas his first kiss had been angry, this one seduced.

Her lips parted beneath his and his tongue slid into her mouth to stroke against hers, inviting her to respond. The evening shadow on is jaw was a rough caress on her soft skin.

He pulled her closer, flush up against him, as she was caught up in the rush of feeling that had burst between them.

When his hand slid down and cupped her bottom to pull them closer together so that their bodies were in intimate contact, alarm bells went off in her head. She grasped his shoulders, intent on pushing him back, when she realized the ringing wasn't only in her head.

The phone rang again, insistently, and Draco set his hands on her shoulders to steady her as they broke apart.

Flustered, she glanced around the living room to determine where the ringing cordless was located.

She spotted it peeking form under a throw pillow on the couch and hesitantly picked it up. Her parents were the only ones who ever called her on it and it was odd for them to be calling at this time of night. "Hello?" Her voice was still husky from arousal.

"I'm coming for you." The voice at the other end of the line was a little raspy and hoarse.

"Who is this?"

Lay off your cases at the Ministry or you'll end up dead."

Her hand tightened on the receiver. She knew she had to keep him talking to get more clues. "I don't scare easily."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Draco tense and his brows draw together. She turned away as he strode toward her.

There was a grim chuckle on the phone line. "I'm willing to bet there are a lot of people who would pay a nice sum of money to get you back—dead or alive."

Suddenly the receiver was torn from her hand. "touch her and I'll obliterate you like the bad memory you will be." Draco's voice was clipped and deadly.

Hermione guessed the line must have gone dead because Draco had taken out his wand and whispered a spell at the phone. A few seconds later he tossed the phone in the chair with a disgusted look on his face. "Should have known it wouldn't be that easy to trace."

"Why did you do that?" she demanded, bracing her hands on her hips. "You didn't even give me a chance to try to draw him out."

"Draw him out?" he asked incredulously. "Forget it, honey. You may work for the Squad but who's had a lot more experience with criminals. This guys a wily bastard. He's only going to be drawn out when he comes for your pretty neck."

"There's no need to be crude," she snapped.

"What did he say?"

"He warned me to lay off my cases at the Ministry."

"And?"

"And what?"

"What else?"

Seeking a distraction she adjusted a pillow on the couch. "And he implied that kidnapping was in the cards." She didn't add the part about a ransom to get her back, dead or alive. No use adding more fuel to Draco's bonfire.

Draco cursed. "I'm bunking down here."

End of chapter 1

AN-please review this is my first fanfiction and I would appreciate anything anyone has to say. But don't be too mean!


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Under the Dragons Protection

Author: Ms. Dependent

Rating: PG-13 - R

Disclaimer: It's not mine. JKR rox me sox

AN- I have completely ignored HBP in this, though I do love the book. This is post Hogwarts about 4-5 years later.

Thanks to my reviewers and to you I have this to say:

**Katelynne: **thanks for being my first reviewer ever and you have now been added to the list of people who rock my socks  
**Chavela2:** Thanks a lot. You make my head big.

**Curlyg2713: **I would totally hate for you all to lose interest so I rushed this update.

**SimplyJill and AmongDarkShadows: **OK. OK. OK?

**Roxyfoxnyy19:** Hmm. Confused eh? OK. I don't know if I will put full detail in the story. I was also thinking that when I finish I might do a prequel, explaining what happened in the seventh year and how they defeated voldemort and how harry and Ginny ended up married. But for now a brief history.

Draco switched sides after the death of his parents—the summer before seventh year—believing their death to be voldie's fault. The fact that he now had something in common with harry sparked a unexpected friendship.

Hermione had a plan that she insisted on doing alone, as to not put anyone else in danger, but Draco found out about it. Hermione asked him not to tell Harry or Ron and he said he wouldn't. Hermione goes and sets her plan in motion. But when it takes longer then expected Draco freaks out and tells Harry and Ron and they go and join her. Whatever they do, it helps them defeat Voldie. Hermione is angry because she believes that she still could've done it all without them. She forgives Harry and Ron quickly, But not Draco because he betrayed her trust so quickly after gaining it. She and Draco grow apart, while he continues his friendship with Harry and Ron. Now, since Harry and Draco are without parents, They have become unofficial members of the Weasley family(though harry is technically a brother-in-law). the important thing is they act like brothers.

That's all for now. tell me if there is anything else you want to know.

**Chapter 2**

_Draco cursed. "I'm bunking down here."_

"What?" Hermione gasped.

"You heard me. My job starts now." He cast a skeptical look at her tiny chintz-covered couch. It looked about as comfortable as a linoleum floor. "Do you mind if I transfigure your couch?"

"It's a muggle antique, I rather you not make a mistake and mess it up."

He glanced at the clock on the mantel. Since she looked ready to argue with him again he decided to change the tactics. "It's nearly two in the morning. I'm beat and in no mood to try to apparate home. So, why don't you show me some mercy here?"

He watched the fast-moving emotions on her face as she debated what to do. When she seemed to come to a conclusion, he knew he'd won, but he carefully schooled his features into a bland expression.

"Fine," she said reluctantly. "But only for tonight." She moved toward the doorway. "There's a guest bedroom. I'll just go and make it sure it's in shape."

As he watched her leave he decided he would deal with the morning when it arrived. Hermione was in over her head here, and, whether she wanted to admit it or not, she needed him.

He moved around the room restlessly. He'd gotten a call that morning from Harry. Naturally he and the Weasleys were concerned that Hermione being harassed might be connected to one of her cases at the Ministry. But Hermione—not being cowed easily, a trait he normally would have admired—had insisted she could handle matters by herself and no one should overreact.

His natural reaction had been to volunteer his security services. And, because Harry was an old friend and the Weasleys had been good to him, he insisted on taking the matter on personally—with no fee.

He hadn't divulged _that_ to Hermione, of course. He figured it would be easier if she thought he was a hired hand rather than some quasi-big brother trying to step in and do the right thing.

And the truth of the matter was, whatever he felt these days, he was damn sure it wasn't brotherly. True, she drove him nuts, not the least because of her open disdain for him. But, as much as it irked him, they hit sparks off each other whenever they were in the same room.

He had enough sexual experience to recognize that for what it was. The signs were all there and too obvious to ignore. He was acutely aware of her –the light flowery scent that clung to her skin, the brilliant deep brown in her eyes, the thick mass of dark-brown hair cascading down her shoulders.

She was curvy, too, her nicely rounded figure making her neither voluptuous nor willowy, but just right to make his body tighten whenever he was around her. He'd nearly blown a fuse when she'd opened the door in that short silky slip, it's matching robe gaping open above its loosely and obviously hastily tied belt.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. If he didn't watch it, he'd get aroused right now, just thinking about her, and he couldn't afford another lapse.

The long-simmering kettle of tension between him and Hermione was getting harder to ignore and living with her under the same roof was going to try his self-control to the limit.

He'd kissed her, for Merlin's' sake. Sure, he might try to rationalize it, but he knew the truth was more complicated then that.

What's more, she'd kissed him back. Now that was an interesting little reaction for him to puzzle over. She'd been all fiery passion, just as she thought she'd be, and he, Gods help him, had been more than ready to be consumed by the heat.

He wondered what would happen if he tried to kiss her again. . . . . He started to grin, then stopped short. _Get a grip, Draco. Your here to protect her._

True, Hermione had grown from a buck-toothed, insufferable know-it-all into a beautiful, desirable woman. But they didn't get along well enough for anything longer than a fling, and any thing shorter would feel like he was betraying his friendship to Harry and Ron. And that went a long way toward explaining why his attraction to Hermione lay dormant, never acted upon—until tonight.

So, protect her he would, his raging hormonal reaction be damned. Just thinking about someone trying to harm Hermione made his blood boil. She might send his libido into overdrive, but she also had some jerk trying to spook her.

Fortunately, he'd been able to persuade her to let him spend the night at her place. But bigger battles lie ahead. She thought she was getting rid of him in the morning, but she had another thing coming.

AN- wow that was short. Oh and sorry it took so long, I almost forgot about it until I got that email/review from AmongDarkShadows. So cookies for her.

And now you know I only update when I get reviews, so review. . . . please?


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Under the Dragons Protection

Author: Ms. Dependent

Rating: PG-13 - R

Disclaimer: It's not mine. JKR rox me sox

AN- I have completely ignored HBP in this, though I do love the book. This is post Hogwarts about 4-5 years later.

YAY! New chapter. Took me long enough.

**Chapter 3**

In the morning, Hermione dressed for work and got downstairs only to discover Draco was already in the kitchen, dressed in last night's form-fitting black jeans and white T-shirt.—which, to her chagrin, outlined the lean but hard muscles of his chest.

He looked up from tossing a pancake and nodded toward the coffee maker. "Help yourself."

She guessed she wasn't getting rid of him just yet. She didn't have it in he, however, to be irritated about it. "Thanks for making breakfast." The aroma of the coffee and the smell of pancakes was already seducing her taste buds.

His lips quirked up, as if in acknowledgment that her statement was dictated only by good manners. "Your welcome." He slide a pancake onto a waiting plate. "I never leave the house in the morning without a shot of carbs," he added, as if by way of explanation for his presence in her kitchen.

When they'd almost finished breakfast, She decided to tackle the hippogrif in the room that they were both ignoring. "The threats are ridiculous. I mean, whoever is making them has to know that the Ministry will just get another prosecutor to handle them."

Draco took his time answering, wolfing down the last of his pancakes. "That's true. But no one knows your cases as well as you do. Whoever is threatening you is probably betting the Ministry's case will be a lot weaker with a officer who has been substituted midstream."

"But that's crazy!"

"Yup." Draco nodded. "Crazy and desperate."

Was he purposely trying to scare her?

As if reading the skepticism on her face, he continued, "There've been plot in the past to knock off wizignots. A defendant may figure he can get someone more sympathetic." He shrugged. "It isn't a big lead to think someone's guessed a similar strategy could work with an overzealous officer."

She felt a prick of annoyance. "I'm not overzealous."

Draco leaned back in his chair. "Yeah, but you're doing your job too well and its scaring this guy. When I call you overzealous, I was conjecturing about what our Mr. Nice on the phone could be thinking—and what might be motivating him. Maybe the next officer won't care as much about your cases or won't have your determination and brains."

She couldn't help the frisson of happiness that went through her at his off hand compliment.

Draco leaned forward and shoved his empty plate aside. "Is there one case you've been working on a lot?"

She gave him a sardonic look. "I only wish there was just one." She knew she should be standing up right now, thanking him for his concern and showing him the door, just as she promised last night. Yet, she supposed, she owed him some satisfaction in return for his concern, however misplaced, not to mention for cooking breakfast.

"All right, what's a major case you're working on?"

She considered a moment, then said, "One of them is the Higgs burglary case."

"That one hasn't made the papers."

She nodded. "It wouldn't, but Terence Higgs has a rap sheet that's a lone and interesting, including dealing illegal potions and use of dark magic. This time he's charged with robbing Flourish and Blotts."

"Is he out on bail?"

"No, he is behind bars awaiting trial." Then she added, by way of explanation, "He's only in his early twenties, so there's still time for him to move on to more serious crimes if he gets off for this one—or even if he doesn't but gets out of prison in a few years."

Draco nodded curtly. "Potion dealing. Was he a neighborhood pusher?"

"Basically."

Draco drained his coffee cup, taking his time asking his next question. "Has anyone linked him with a gang? He's the right age."

His perceptiveness surprised her. "Some of his neighbors have more or less said so. Off he record."

His face gave nothing away. :So some gang members might be harassing the Ministry Officer who's trying to put their old bud Higgs in the slammer for a long while."

A chill went through her a he gave voice to the fear that she refused to acknowledge, but she forced herself to nod in agreement. "All right, I'll buy that logic."

"Any other prosecutions you're handling?"

"There's the Bradley case."

"Okay, what's the Bradley case?"

She shrugged. "Business executive accused of embezzlement. Part of it is what accountants know as a lapping scheme. Basically, stealing revenue to cove the missing money in the company's accounts receivable." She paused. "At least that's what we're trying to prove."

"Bradley. Name sounds familiar."

She nodded. "He's high profile. Sits on a bunch of charitable boards. A born rich type."

His lips twisted. "Great, my favorite type."

She pasted a look of mock surprise on her face. "What? You dislike the born-rich types as well as social climbers? Are there any types you do like?"

He gave her an inscrutable look before mentally seeming to shift gears back to the issue at hand. "Those white-collar crimes often settle. Just the thought of landing in a cell next to your run-of-the-mill burglar or dealer is usually enough to get these guy's defense attorneys to talk settlement."

"True, but, in this case, Bradley doesn't want to admit any wrongdoing." She was surprised by Draco's knowledge of law enforcement. She supposed she shouldn't be though. His father was a criminal and Draco had tried to distance himself from any alliance with criminals.

She added, "As I said, Bradley is a social climber. Right now his public relations firm is spinning this as the Ministry's misguided attempt to bring down on of the wizarding world big philanthropist."

"Is Bradley out on bail?"

"Yes."

"Okay, so Bradley is free to come and go. Unlike Higgs, who could have some buddies on the outside helping him out. On the other hand, Bradley appears to be just a white-collar criminal. We don't know whether he has it in him to get his hands dirty with death threats."

She gave him a look of studied patience. "In other words, I'm working on two major cases, so I have two defendants with motives to do me wrong? Is that what your saying?"

He quirked a brow. "What I am saying is put a lid on it. Someone's after you and we haven't identified the who, what and why questions yet. Until we do, it's best if I stay here."

Stay here? Hadn't they settled that last night? _He was going, going, gone._ In fact, he should have been gone already. If she wasn't such a sucker for coffee—not to mention the pancakes for breakfast—she'd have seen him out the door an hour ago. In any case, there were so many things wrong with his suggestion she couldn't begin to count them.

"You cant stay here." She added a note of finality in her tone.

"Can't"

"It's not necessary." She added repressively. "I thought we settled that last night."

He glanced around in disgust. "Wake up, Granger, you don't even have any wards set up."

"I'll have one set up."

He said dryly, "That's exactly why I was hired." Then added, "But putting up wards takes time. Even a company link Malfoy Security needs a few days to do a job like this."

She should have seen this coming the minute she got downstairs to find him flipping pancakes. The sneak. "So, I'll stay with. . . ." Who? She searched her brain in a hurry. Her parents? Harry and Ginny? Ron? The options weren't enticing. "My parents."

"Your parents are muggles." He folded his arms over his chest and sat back, apparently digging in for battle. "And lets see. . ." He snapped his fingers. "Oh yeah, if I were a wizard trying to kidnap you, a couple of muggles couldn't stop me."

"One of my friends then. Harry and Ron both have apartments in London."

"There often not in London. Ever since he got married, Harry has settled down to domestic bliss with Ginny and the baby. And Ron is often on the road for his Auror duties. If you disappeared from his apartment , no one would discover it for hours, even a day or two."

She knew he was right, but she rebelled at the thought. No one, least of all her friends, seemed to understand that a bodyguard would raise eyebrows at the Ministry. She'd worked too hard at her career to have her credibility undermined by the poor-weak-rich-girl image that had stalked her for the past four years.

Draco unfolded his arms. "what you need is a bodyguard," he stated matter-of-factly. "But I understand why that might be a problem for someone in your position."

"Thanks," she said wryly, his perceptiveness taking her by surprise. "At least you're more reasonable then Harry and the Weasleys."

"So," he went on, "that's why I'm suggesting another option. Namely, me. All anybody needs to know is that I am an old friend who moved in with you, maybe until renovations on my own place are done."

The man had a stubborn streak a mile wide. Even if he did manage to keep a lower profile than a typical bodyguard, his offer was unwise. Very unwise if last night's kiss was anything to judge by. "I thought we'd been over this. No."

"I'll apparate with you to and from work," he continued unperturbed, "and, as an added bonus—" he gestured to their surroundings "—I'll stay here with you."

How magnanimous of you."

He gave her a humorless smile. "Don't worry. I'm house-trained and basically pick up after myself."

She rolled her eyes.

He leaned in suddenly serious, his silver gaze capturing and holding hers. "This isn't a game Hermione. Someone has already sent you death threats. You don't know what he'll do next."

"I know." She tried to focus on the danger but, instead, on finding the perpetrator. She refused to live her life in fear—although, truth be told hadn't that been part of her motivation last night for being at the window, peering at the dark street.

She'd always known Draco Malfoy was a man who didn't take no for an answer. He was after all, the guy who changed the name Malfoy to a name everyone knew and feared to a name everyone knows and trusts.

But, she reminded herself, he was also the guy who ruined her plan all those years ago. The guy who still acted at times as if she were an inexperienced know-it-all, regardless of last night's inexplicable kiss.

Fortified by that thought, she tried again for a polite brush off. "Look, Draco, I appreciate the offer, but I can handle this on my own."

His eyes narrowed. "And what if I said you really don't have a choice in the matter?"

She scoffed, then stopped abruptly as he reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a set of house keys—both muggle and magical. Alarm bells went in her head. "where did you get those?"

"When I'm hired for a job, I usually get access to the premises," he said coolly

She pursed her lips. She knew exactly who to thank for giving him access. When she was though with Harry, his ears would be ringing for days. In the meantime, she had one cagey security expert to deal with.

Quite clearly she wasn't simply going to be able to banish Draco as she'd like. Experience had taught her, however, that it was better to graciously call a temporary truce rather than admit defeat. She needed time to figure out how to get him out of her house. In the meantime, she'd play along with his game.

"I see." She said, keeping her voice a few degrees cooler then his. "Well, if you are going to be my temporary roommate, then we should set some house rules."

"Such as?" His tone was suspicious, wary.

"Last night was a mistake that will not happen again, got it? Unfortunately, you caught me at a weak moment when my defenses were down."

"That's the idea."

She narrowed her eyes. "As I said, It will not happen again."

"Are we, by any chance, talking about the kiss we shared?"

Of course I'm talking about the kiss." Somewhere in the last few hours, the kiss—really two kisses that had seemed to flow almost seamlessly together—had assumed a singular identity all its own so that she now referred to it as "the kiss".

"Just checking," he said in a voice that was so amiable it set her teeth in edge.

"And let me correct you, it's not 'the kiss we shared', it's the kiss that you planted on me when I was distracted and vulnerable."

His lips teased upward on one side. "Funny, you seemed to enjoy it."

"No kissing. That's part of the ground rules, Malfoy."

He had the temerity to look openly amused. "I'll agree not to kiss you. Whether you kiss me, however, is another matter."

She gave him a frosty stare. "I'll do my best to resist."

"So are we shaking up together?" He asked.

"With an offer like that how can I refuse?"

He broke into a grin. "Modesty prevents me from saying what else."

"I've always said it's your strong suit."

"Is that sarcasm I detect?"

"That and good manners prevent me from saying what else."  
He laughed outright then, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Her stomach somersaulted and she resisted the sudden strange urge to quell his hilarity with a sultry kiss on laughing mouth.

Oh boy, was she in trouble. Until last night, She'd have said only way she'd have thought of silencing Draco was with a spell she'd learned from Ginny.

At least until she could figure out how to get rid of him, Draco was going to be her protector from an unknown threat, but who was going to protect her from the very real threat that he represented?

AN- Questions? Comments? Please review.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Under the Dragons Protection

Author: Ms. Dependent

Rating: PG-13 - R

Disclaimer: It's not mine. JKR rox me sox

AN- I have completely ignored HBP in this, though I do love the book. This is post Hogwarts about 4-5 years later.

This ones short but at least it exist.

**Chapter 4**

Draco's suspicions were immediately roused when Hermione didn't argue about his insistence on flooing with her to work. His instincts told him she was far too docile. She was up to something, but he wasn't sure what.

Nevertheless he didn't dwell on it because he had a typical jam-packed day ahead of him, starting with apparating back to his manor to change into his work robes before heading to Malfoy Security's headquarters.

At lunchtime, he apparated back to the Ministry of Magic. He and Harry had long ago scheduled lunch at Burke's Steakhouse for today. They tried to fit in a lunch appointment from time to time, often at Burke's, as a way of keeping in touch despite there busy schedules. He knew, however, that this time Harry would have questions about how things are going with beefing up Hermione's security.

He hadn't been wrong, he thought, as he shifted in the seat he'd taken in front of Harry's desk because they still had a few minutes before they had to leave for Burke's.

"I tried to talk to her about taking some safety measures," Harry was saying, "but she just shrugs me off. Tells me she's dealing with it. But, the thing is, she's in a high-profile job and coming in contact with unsavory types everyday."

Draco nodded. "I'm doing my best. She wasn't exactly thrilled to see me last night." He added wryly, "And, you know,—with her—I'm not known for being charming and ingratiating."

Harry chuckled. "Yeah but I haven't got a choice. . ."

The door to the office swung open and Harry's voice trailed off as Hermione strode in.

Her dark, brown eyes flashed her annoyance. "Are you two discussing me, by chance?"

She was dressed in the navy-blue robe that Draco had seen her in that morning, the open collar of her white shirt giving a tantalizing glimpse of her bare throat. Her high-heeled black leather pumps set off her shapely legs beneath a her short skirt.

The mere sight of her awakened every male need Draco had, but she had completely disregarded everything he'd said this morning.

Harry muttered a curse under his breath. "I suppose Sarah let you come right in, didn't she?"

"Actually, your secretary stepped away from her desk right after letting it slip that you were meeting with Draco." Draco watched as Hermione's eyes settled on him then, a disdainful look on her face. "I might have known you'd be here. Patting yourself on the back for a mission accomplished, are you?"

He rose from his seat. "I'll only feel a sense of accomplishment once we track down the guy's who's after you." Sternly, he went on, "I thought I told you to stay put and that I would pick you up from you're office when you were ready to leave."

"Yes I do recall you ordering me to stay put. What I don't recall is me agreeing to it, especially since I have my dear friend to thank for my new living arrangements." She folded her arms and sat on the corner of Harry's desk, glancing back at her friend, who merely raised an eyebrow inquiringly at her.

"Hello, Harry," she said coolly. "Just the person I wanted to see. You know, the last time I checked tenants still had the right to peaceful occupation of the premise without unwanted roommates being foisted on them." She fixed her friend with a hard stare. "So far I've resisted the urge to file you with a landlord-tenant court. I know it would break Ms. Weasley's heart."

"Is that what you came here to do? Complain?" He asked in exasperation, "And, for the record, what would break Ms. Weasley's heart is if we found you dead in a ditch. We're all worried sick about you and this psycho who's sending you threats."

"Well, of course Ms. Weasley's worried!" Hermione retorted. "She was also worried when you and Ron took up Broom racing a few years ago. Or when Ron decided to try rock climbing. And, when _you_ went backpacking through America. _But_ she trusted you to take precautions."

Harry leaned forward. "What's wrong with getting a little help in this case? I couldn't even mention Draco's name without you going ballistic on me." Harry folded his hands on his desk. "Draco is the best in the business. The only reason you won't consider him is that you two do nothing but snap and bark at each other."

"Great, won't that make us pleasant roomies!"

Draco gained grim satisfaction from the thought that she sounded worried about there living situation. "I can stand the heat in the kitchen if you can, Hermione."

She gave him the imitation of a smile. "You won't need to worry about the kitchen, Draco, because I plan to light a fire under you."

Their gazes locked while Harry stifled a laugh. Draco wondered what she'd say if he told her she'd already lit a fire inside him. He'd just been unsuccessfully dousing the flames for years.

Harry cleared his throat. "If you think I'm meddling, Mione, just consider it payback for meddling in my life. That was a nice performance last year, orchestrating to throw me and Ginny together."

"That was different."

Harry's expression showed skepticism. "Oh, yeah.?"

Draco knew that, partly thanks to Hermione's machinations, Harry and her best friend Ginny were now married and the parents of one-month-old James.

Hermione straightened away from the desk that she had been leaning against and folded her arms. "You and Ginny were made for each other, Harry. Besides, you can't say you're unhappy with the way things turned out."

Harry cocked his head and leaned back in his chair. "So that was different because you had my best interest at heart, is that it?"

Draco nodded at Hermione, then looked back at Harry. "Obviously, unlike Hermione here, who just had your best interest at heart, Harry, you're just a dirty rotten interloper of the first order."

Hermione sighed in exasperation. Harry and Draco were cut from the same cloth, despite the fact that one had been born rich on the wrong side of the tracks and the other was the poor golden boy-who-lived-to-save-the-world. Neither would back down in a situation like this.

Draco had looked at her levelly. "Somehow I didn't think you'd be backing down easily despite seeming docile as a lamb when I took you to work this morning."

"You do know me better than that," she tossed back.

"Lets call this one a draw, Hermione." He said it calmly, but his fixed look conveyed the message that he would not be thwarted next time.

"Why don't you join us for lunch?" Harry offered. "Draco and I agreed to do lunch today a long time ago, but, as it happens, you've been the number-one topic so far."

She glanced at her watch. "Thanks for the offer but I need to get back."

She'd succeeded in communicating her displeasure to her friend, but it was clear that neither he nor Draco was going to be moved to seeing her point of view—such as the need for Draco to remove himself from her house.

Since staying any longer would probably be an exercise in futility, she supposed that it made sense to agree to Draco's offer of a draw and retreat from the field of battle. But if Draco thought he'd won, he was in for a big surprise.

Draco moved toward her. "I'll go with you."

"You're having lunch with Harry, remember? Besides I'm just going to another floor."

"Harry and I can have lunch another time," Draco shot back. "Besides, we've said all we needed to say. My guys are starting on the wards for the house this afternoon and I need to get back." He nodded at Harry. "You don't mind if I get a rain check, do you?"

Harry look quizzically from one to the other of them before, she could swear a smile played at the corners of his lips. "Not a problem. Not a problem at all."

Harry's expression made her wary, but she didn't dwell on it as Draco came toward her, obviously intent on following her out the door, "Suit yourselves."

"I'll pick you up at work when your done." Draco said in a tone that declared he would brook no argument.

Naturally," she responded sarcastically, though silently she admitted that she'd unintentionally summarized part of the problem: she was afraid that having Draco around might seem to natural all to quickly.

**End of chapter four**

And now time for a happy little Author's Note!

This chapter is dedicated to Curlyg2713, because again it this chapter, we know, That Draco has settled in to her House to protect her.

The next chapter is also dedicated to you, because Curlyg2713, I will have her reestablish Draco settling in to her house to Ginny.

But after that its all for plzthx101, because I promise then I will start my super sexual tension scenes.

Please bear with me. The hot stuff will come. I just wanted to develop the story first, or else the hot stuff wont mean anything.

**Want me to dedicate a chapter to you?** All you have to do is review.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Under the Dragons Protection

Author: Ms. Dependent

Rating: PG-13 - R

Disclaimer: It's not mine. JKR rox me sox

AN- I have completely ignored HBP in this, though I do love the book. This is post Hogwarts about 4-5 years later.

This ones short but at least it exist.

**Chapter 5**

On Sunday, Hermione went to the Borrow to have brunch with the Weasley's.

Draco came with her, as he would have even if he hadn't gotten a separate invitation from her parents.

He was still camped out at her townhouse, but she hadn't given up hope of dislodging him. Even if Harry technically still owned the townhouse and Draco could claim to be acting at his request, that didn't mean she was without options. She wasn't prepared yet to take the drastic step of moving out herself, but she could refuse to cooperate with Draco and ignore him as much as possible.

The main topic of conversation during brunch was of course, her nameless antagonist. In comparison, the fact that she was living with Draco seemingly went over without anyone so much as batting an eye.

Mrs. Weasley seemed to summarize the general feeling by commenting, "We're so grateful to you, Draco, for providing your security services. It does give me some peace of mind."

Ron added, "Lots of luck, Draco. And, if I know Hermione, you're going to need it."

Draco merely cocked an eyebrow but Harry and Ginny grinned knowingly.

Hermione tossed a quelling look to her friends—a glance that indicated their hilarity was definitely not appreciated.

By the time brunch was over and she joined her best friend Ginny in the family room, she was gritting her teeth. If there was anyone who could sympathize with her plight, however, it would be her best friend.

She flopped into a wicker chair facing Ginny. "Can you believe it? Grateful? Peace of mind?" She opened her eyes in wide mock disbelief.

Ginny, who'd just taken a seat in the rocking chair with James, looked up. "I know, I know. But, Mione, really, aren't you the least bit scared by all this."

"You mean the threats?" Hermione shrugged. "Yes, of course. But I can't let fear paralyze me. Otherwise I might as well resign my job tomorrow."

Ginny nodded understandingly.

"But don't tell Harry and Ron that." She blew out a breath. "If they knew I was the least bit bothered by this, they'd probably hide me in a hut somewhere with bodyguards posted at all sides."

Ginny chuckled. "Oh, Hermione, they mean well. Harry, for one, is genuinely concerned about your safety."

"I know. I just wish they'd give me a little more credit. Besides, there are practically three of them. Draco could give the other two a run for the galleon in the overprotectiveness category."

Ginny gave her a sympathetic look.

Hermione gave a sigh in exasperation. "Draco's made himself at home around the townhouse. Yesterday he was inspecting doors and checking windows. He already put up a Ward that would directly contact the Ministry."

The Wards _had_ made her feel more comfortable, she conceded. It was just who was supervising the installation that bothered her.

"Hmm." Ginny looked down a the sleeping baby. "There was a time when you would have done somersaults from Draco."

Hermione made a noncommittal sound in her throat. Ginny knew the reason she had tried to do everything on her own all those years ago. "I got tired of dining on the crumbs of that table a long time ago."

"I'd be shocked to see either one of you dining on the crumbs of _any_ table," Molly Weasley said as she entered from the doorway leading to the family room.

Hermione watched her as she sank into a nearby wicker chair. "How could you say that in there?"

"Say what, dear?" Mrs. Weasley bestowed an indugent gaze on the baby.

Ginny waved a hand. "_Grateful_, Mom, _Peace of mind?_" Voicing Hermione's opinion "Whatever happened to 'a woman is perfectly capable of taking care of herself'?"

Mrs. Weasley's gaze drifted from her daughter to Hermione. "Of course I know you can take care of your self. But there's nothing wrong with thanking Draco for his help when you may be in real danger." She paused. "In fact, I hope you haven't forgotten your manners that I know your parents tried to instill I in you and have already thanked him yourself. Have you?"

Hermione quashed the niggle of guilt. Mrs. Weasley had a sneaky way of turning the tables on her. "The way all of you were falling over yourselves to thank him, you'd think he'd taken on his worse client ever."

Mrs. Weasley raised her eyebrows and smiled. "Hermione, you know we meant nothing of the kind. Ron and Harry were just teasing, and usually your besting them at their own game."

"Yes, well, think of the inconveniences that Draco has to put up with!" Hermione sat up in her chair and pretended to think for a second before snapping her fingers. "I know! I made him pace downstairs waiting for me to get ready this morning." She glanced at Ginny, who was looking mildly amused. "You know how I love long, hot showers."

Mrs. Weasley tried and failed to look as if she were seriously concerned.

Hermione glanced from her to Ginny and back. "Hasn't it occurred to anyone in this family that I'm, for all intents and purposes, _living with a man?_" She covered her mouth in a mock gasp, then threw up her hands. "I mean, if it had been anyone but Draco, your reaction would have been the opposite of peace of mind, and, guaranteed Harry and Ron wouldn't be wishing him luck."

"But it _is_ Draco dear." Molly paused. "unless you're suggesting something _is_ going on between the two of you?"

"Of course not!" The thought was ridiculous. "The Kiss" didn't count. "I was just arguing the what if? Is it so beyond the realm of possibility that Draco and I find living together—" she searched for the right word, then gave up "—sexually awkward?" Not only that, it was too intimate, too personal, too everything!

A gleam came into Mrs. Weasley's eyes. "Oh, I see."

She knew that gleam. The last time Mrs. Weasley had it, she'd just found out Ginny and Harry were having a baby.

Frustrated, Hermione slumped back into her chair in defeat. "No, you don't see."

She'd meant to use the co-habitation issue as a hook to gain some maternal-like support by making it clear why Draco living in her townhouse was a untenable situation. Unfortunately the plan had backfired: Mrs. Weasley was looking pleasantly surprised.

"Well, what I do understand," Molly said, "is that there's a perfectly nice young man in there."

Hermione stared moodily out at the lawn and wondered idly how Draco would have liked being called "a nice young man."

"And, if _someone_ were interested, I'd say she couldn't do better."

Hermione nodded at Ginny. "Can you see her counting the grandbabies? You and Harry have opened the floodgates."

Ginny looked at the baby. "Well, you have to admit, Draco is quite a catch." She added, at Hermione's look, "If I were interested, I mean."

"Speaking of grandbabies—" Molly took James from Ginny and hugged him. "As much as I love this little sweet heart, my only regret is that Harry and Ginny didn't have time to plan a formal wedding." Molly stood up and started pacing, looking at Hermione over the baby's head. "So, my darling, I suggest you make sure you take those long, hot showers by yourself. Leave the cold ones to Draco.

"MOLLY!"

Ginny looked momentarily shocked and shocked and then started giggling.

Molly headed to the doorway, a smile on her face.

"We don't even like each other!" Hermione called to Mrs. Weasley's retreating back. "We mix like oil and vinegar!"

She turned back to Ginny. "Why am I explaining myself?"

"I think thou dost protest to much."

She grabbed a pillow from a nearby chair and tossed it at Ginny, who laughed and ducked.

**End of Chapter 5**

And now for me author note-

I retract my earlier statement made to **Curlyg2713**, but I leave the last chapter dedicated to her as a peace offering. I would also like to add that I was joking.

I dedicate this chapter to **Beautiful Screams of Heartache**, thanks for putting my story on your favorites.

Lastly, as a hint for next chapter- Its all for you **chavela2**.

The more you review, the faster I update. So review! You know you want to.


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Under the Dragons Protection

Author: Ms. Dependent

Rating: PG-13 - R

Disclaimer: It's not mine. JKR rox me sox

AN- I have completely ignored HBP in this, though I do love the book. This is post Hogwarts about 4-5 years later.

**Chapter 6**

The next week was a blur for Hermione. Draco had finished seeing to the Ward installation at the townhouse, and she and Draco had settled into a regular routine. Each morning, no matter how early, she made it to the fireplace only to discover Draco was waiting for her, floo powder in hand. If she didn't call him at the end of the day, he'd phone her and ask when he needed to escort her home.

She tried to dodge him on Wednesday, but he just showed at her office anyway and waited a half-hour for her to finish working. She'd felt like a heel, no matter how much she told herself he deserved it for barging into her life and her home.

Yet, despite doing her best to treat him as if he were no more than a speck of dust on the wall, the two of them continued to rub up against each other. His parchments and work were set up in the corner of her study and his personal belongings were in her house.

But what really bothered her, she admitted to herself, was the intimacy of their living situation. She'd been trying to make a point to Ms. Weasley when she'd used the words, _sexually awkward_, but the truth wasn't far afield.

On Thursday morning, as she was getting ready for work, she'd realized the shirt for the outfit she was putting on was hanging in the hall closet. Knowing Draco was showering, she'd dashed out of her bedroom clad only in her bra and skirt.

She'd just turned to head back to her bedroom, pleased to have found the shirt she sought, when the bathroom door opened and her gaze had collided with Draco's.

His only covering was a towel riding low on his hips. Half-naked, he paradoxically loomed even bigger and more imposing than he usually did.

Her gaze moved downward, taking in lean but sculpted muscles and a line of hair that traveled down a flat stomach and disappeared from view at the top of his towel.

When her gaze connected with his again, she felt herself flush. But whether it was embarrassment at being caught in her curiosity, or from his hot look at her nearly topless state, or both, she wasn't sure.

She'd involuntarily hugged the shirt to her breast in a protective gesture and marched past him. slamming her bedroom door shit behind her with out turning around.

By Friday night, when Draco had brought her back to the townhouse., the tension between them was to thick, she felt like a boiling pot with a shaking lid.

After changing out of her business robes and into some jeans and a fitted top, she headed downstairs to fix something simple for dinner and then curl up on the couch to go through some files she'd brought home with her from the office.

Unfortunately, Draco was downstairs in the front hall when she got there. He was loosening his tie and obviously headed upstairs to change out of his business robes he still wore. Somehow managed to look rough around the edges even in conservative business attire.

He stopped when he saw her and his gaze raked over her, settling on the files she was holding. "What? No plans on a Friday night?"

She stiffened and her chin came up. "I have work to do." Then she added, even though she knew it was ridiculous to feel defensive, "Otherwise I'd have plans."

"Since when does work mean giving up Friday nights?"

"Sometimes it does." She shrugged. "Besides, I'm not in the mood to head out tonight." That was partly true. She also wasn't involved with anyone at the moment.

Normally, she'd be heading out anyway, but—and she'd eat chalk than admit this to Draco—the truth was that the death threats had nibbled at her self confidence. So, spending Friday night cocooned at home—even with someone as annoying as Draco—was more appealing than hitting the social scene.

He arched a brow. "Maybe you'd feel differently about staying home if the guys you dated were more interesting,"

Her chin came up. "Back off, Malfoy." As if knew much more about her love life these days than what could be gleaned from the occasional mention about her in the society pages. She set her files down on the console table in the entry hall, where she could find them later.

He looked displeased. "You know what your problem is, Granger?"

She affected a bored tone. "I'm sure you're going to tell me."

"Damn straight, I'm going to tell you. Your problem is you can't deal with a guy who has a brain in his head."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I've watched you, Hermione. I've seen all the average Joes that have gone trooping in and out of your life."

She tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I've never dated an average Joe."

Draco's lips twisted. "Of course, I knew I didn't have a chance unless I surgically removed a large segment of my brain."

She wrinkled her nose. "That's a lovely image. Anyway, it's not true. The guys I date are not dumb."

"What about the guy who accidentally bonded his fingers together?"

She sighed impatiently. "Why does everyone bring up Lenny? That was right after Hogwarts and I still cant live that down."

"In your book, the guys have look and talk tough but be as thick as a plank," Draco persisted. "Your problem is you never dated a real man."

"Like you, you mean?"

He smiled slowly, wolfishly. "I haven't heard any complaints"

"You wouldn't. That criticism-proof room your ego dwells in doesn't let you hear any."

His eyes narrowed. "Maybe there aren't any to be heard. I didn't hear any complaints from you about our kiss. In fact, you seemed to enjoy it."

His lips curved into a humorless smile, his jaw hardening. He moved closer. "Really?" he asked, his voice low and silky.

She lifted her chin up another notch. "Yes, _really_. And, for the record: I didn't enjoy that kiss."

"Hmm." He reached out and clasped her arms with his hands, drawing her closer, his hands moving up and down in a slow caress. "Are you sure?" he murmured.

"Quite."

"Because I could have sworn you were enjoying it."

"Then you were wrong." Was that breathy voice hers?

His gaze dropped to mouth and he murmured, "Then I must have been imagining those soft lips underneath mine."

He thought her lips were soft?

He bent his head and drew in a breath, turning his head to whisper in her ear. "And dreaming that subtle scent of pure woman."

Her body heated.

Her drew her flush up against him, his head bending to nuzzle her neck. "I must have fantasized that soft body pressed against me. . . ."

She should be stepping back—reminding him of the promise she'd extracted about no more kissing—but his low voice and the soothing caress of his hands were having an odd effect on her.

"Admit it," he said softly against her temple. "You can't liked the kiss." His hands continued to stoke and coax her.

It was hard to issue a denial. . .and hard to remember why it was so important that she do so. His hands moved up to knead her shoulder blades and her eyes nearly closed.

She could feel the magnetism practically radiating from him. He lifted his head and his gaze connected with hers. His eyes shone with a bluish hue in this light. She felt prickles of awareness all over her skin., her nipples tight beneath the concealing fabric of her bra.

"You find me irresistible, don't you, Hermione?" he said in a low seductive voice. "I'm an arrogant, heavy handed monster, but you like it."

Yes. She should say it out loud and put an end to this. She focused on his mouth. If she said yes, he'd probably kiss her again. She bent toward him—

—and he stepped back, his arms dropping to his sides and the twin flames disappearing from his eyes. "Lucky for us then that I can resist you."

It took her a second, but comprehension finally hit and, with it, a cold fury.

He'd been toying with her! Of all the arrogant, smug. . . .

She was tempted to rear back and punch him. He found her very resistible, did he? He'd enjoyed their kiss just as much as she had, the stinker.

And with that thought, she knew how to wipe the smug smile off his lips. She grasped his lapels and yanked him down to her.

In this instant before her eyes closed, she noted the surprise in his eyes followed by—and she knew she wasn't wrong—male interest.

Her response caught him off guard.

But he'd be damned if he didn't take advantage of the opportunity she'd handed him.

Sure, he'd be trying to rile he. Sure, her refusal to admit there first kiss had affected her and challenged him to prove her wrong. But, the tension that had been building between them all week could almost be cut with the proverbial knife.

So, when on her hands moved to grasp his shoulder while the other cupped the back of his head, he let her urge him forward and press herself into him as she slanted her moth across his to deepen their kiss.

Her lips, he thought, were just as soft as he remembered. Enticing. And warm as they moved over his, caressing, coaxing, rubbing.

He parted his lips and let her take the kiss deeper. His body tightened in instinctive reaction to her nearness.

No matter how much she denied it, the sexual attraction was almost palpable between them. So much that there was a fine line between their constant baiting of one another and jumping into bed together.

He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off her feet, and tilting her back so her mouth was on top of his and she was pressed against him

She made a sound and started to push away from him, but he tightened his arm around her took her mouth again and again in a series of hot kisses that had his blood pounding through his veins.

Finally, when the urge to undress her and take her right there in the entryway started to overwhelm his common sense, he took two strides and had her up against the wall. He lowered her slowly, letting her slide down against him, from her breast yielding against his chest to her thigh sliding against his arousal.

When her feet had reached the floor, he let her break their kiss.

She blinked and took deep breaths that seemed to mirror his own.

"Want to go another round?" His voice sounded husky with arousal to his own ears. "I dare you."

He watched as her brows snapped together and her eyes flashed. It was worth the price of admission to spark her fire., he thought. She'd light into him now all right, he'd gotten her to her to convert her outrage into sexual energy twice now, and both times he'd been putty in her hands.

"I don't need another round, Malfoy." Her lashes lowered and her hand came up to stroke his arousal. She looked back up at him, her lips curving seductively. "I have all the proof I need that—how'd did you put it?--you can't resist me."

He sucked a breath. In an instant, he had her pressed up against the wall, hands over her head and wrist cuffed by one of his hands.

She wiggled against him, her seductive smile still in place, and he muttered a curse.

"What's that, Draco? I didn't quite hear you."

He narrowed his eyes. They were playing a dangerous game: both of them refusing to back away from calling the others bluff. Yet, he was far from being the type to back away from a challenge. "Careful. You might want to think twice about issuing a challenge like that when you've literally got your back to the wall," he growled. "Do you want to deny again that you enjoyed our lip-locks? Because, of you do, I'll have to try to prove you wrong _again_."

To her credit, her bravado didn't desert her. She tossed her head, silky strands of dark hair sliding against them both as she tried to clear her face. "I suppose this counts as seduction to a caveman like you."

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with his free hand. But then, instead of drawing his hand away, he gave into temptation and slowly caressed the delicate line of her jaw, letting his thumb rub over the puffy softness of her lower lip.

She held herself still, her gaze locked on his, not yielding, but not lashing him with her sharp tongue either.

He moved his hand downward, stroking the of her neck and then trailing the of his index finger down along the V-shaped neckline of her top and lower, over the roundness of her breast.

With his fingertip, he traced the shape of her breast, moving over its jutting peak.

Hermione moaned.

"Watch me," he breathed. He cupped her breast then—noting she was just large enough to fill the palm of his hand—and began to knead her softness.

Her eyes were fixed on his hand, the quickness of her breath the only sign she wasn't immune to his caress.

His pulse came hard and heavy. "It wouldn't take much for us to hit the sack together."

She looked up at him, her eyes dilated and dark with arousal.

"Course," he added wryly, "your brother would probably pound me into pulp if we did. And wouldn't blame them."

"It wouldn't be any of their business," she said, the breathless quality of her voice belying the toughness of her words.

He found it interesting she didn't immediately deny any interest in sleeping with him. "Right. Ever the dependent one, aren't you?"

"It would be nice if you could remember that, too," she said, her words sharp, but, again, her voice carrying that undertone of sexual excitement that was starting to drive him crazy.

"Have you ever wondered what it would be like, Hermione," he murmured, "if we took out our frustration with each other?"

Her eyes widened a fraction but then her brow snapped together. Wrenching her hands free of his grip, she gave him a push. When he took an involuntary step back, she brushed past him, only to turn back, arms folded, when she was free and clear.

She looked furious. "_Have I ever wondered?_ Is that an invitation to your bed?"

"If it was, would you accept?"

"Not on your life, Malfoy."

He didn't know what had caused her abrupt change of mood, but he silently cursed himself for inadvertently setting it off.

She marched off in the direction of the living room. "From some other entertainment for the evening."

**End of Chapter 6**

A/n-This chapter is dedicated to chavela2. I hope you like it.


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Under the Dragons Protection

Author: Ms. Dependent

Rating: PG-13 - R

Disclaimer: It's not mine. JKR rox me sox

AN- I have completely ignored HBP in this, though I do love the book. This is post Hogwarts about 4-5 years later.

**Chapter 7**

The next morning, Hermione was feeling marginally more relaxed.

Any remnants of tension from last night she decided to work off at the gym. Draco came along, of course, and bench-pressed some iron while she hit the treadmill.

So much for her aim of ignoring him. _That_ plan had fallen by the wayside last night. It didn't help that, despite her best intentions, her eyes kept trailing back to him, finding him behind her with the help of the mirror in front of her.

He was in superb physical condition. His biceps and chest muscles flexed as he lifted the weight above his head, held it, and lowered it down again, unaware of her scrutiny.

She thought about those arms around her the night before and flushed. Then her mind went back to his words. _Had she ever wondered about hopping into bed with him?_

The question had been like dousing with ice-cold water, yanking her from the romantic haze she'd fallen into.

Of course, there'd been a time when she'd wondered what it would be like to spend the night with Draco. But his question not only made clear that he hadn't reciprocated her feelings, it had also shown how little he'd known her.

And, naturally, she couldn't forget that he'd long ago proven himself an insensitive lout.

Another quick look in the mirror revealed Draco was attracting more than his fair share of surreptitious female attention.

Scowling, she ran harder.

Minutes later, she stepped off the treadmill and walked over to where he was now standing by the press machine. "I'm going for a swim in the pool."

He gave a crocked grin. A thin sheen of sweat coated his arm muscles and neck and his T-shirt was darkened in the center with perspiration. He smelled sweaty and all male. "Need to cool off, Granger?"

His double meaning was lost on her. She gave him a level look. "Yes, and I thought a few laps in the pool would be a better approach than dumping water over your head."

His laugh sounded behind her as she moved off in the direction of the women's locker room for a quick duck under the shower nozzle before changing into her swimsuit. Since he'd gotten into this gym—not his usual one—with her guest pass, she doubted he would be following her down to the pool.

She was wrong.

She'd completed three laps and stopped at the side of the pool when she looked up to find him standing above her. They were alone, she noticed peripherally, the middle-aged woman who had been swimming in a nearby lane just disappearing into the locker room.

She trod water and frowned up at him, cocking her head to the side. "I didn't think I'd see you down here." She nodded at his blue swim trunks. "Where did you get those?" she demanded.

"I always come prepared."

Was that amusement she saw lurking in his eyes? If she wasn't mistaken, he knew she'd be thinking—no hoping—she'd managed to shake him.

Instead, he was looming above her, muscular legs planted near the side of the pool, his hands on his hips, his chest and forearms leanly corded and well defined.

Inwardly, she irritatedly shoved down the feminine to yield. Outwardly, she shrugged for his benefit. "Suit yourself," she said, and then took off toward the other end of the pool.

Within a few minutes, however, she became aware of him in the lane beside her. She pushed down her annoyance as he stayed with her down one length of the pool and up the other, matching her stroke for stroke.

She paused at the realization. Was that what he was? She thought. Her match? Is that why she found him so annoying.

She'd thrown her best at Draco over the years and he'd thrown it right back at her. He didn't let her call the shots like a lot of the men she dated. Instead, he was an immovable, solid block of granite and she hadn't even made a dent despite years of trying.

Except, last night he'd wanted her. She imagined that if she hadn't made some flippant comment, if she'd taken his offer seriously, they'd have wound up in bed together.

She tested that thought despite herself. In bed with Draco Malfoy. In bed with her nemesis. In bed with the most detestable annoying and implacable man she knew.

Instinctively, she knew that their sleeping together would not be a tame affair. No, they'd take their contentious relationship onto the bedroom and they'd be wild and uninhibited and a match of wills and passion.

She knew he found her at least somewhat attractive these days if their recent kisses were anything to go by. So why not just give in and scratch the itch they were both feeling?

She felt warm despite the coolness of the water. It would be so easy to go to be with Draco—and so complicated—not least because he was currently living in the same house and sleeping just down the hall.

A part of her—the part that was apt to be flattered by evidence of her feminine power—was thrilled she'd finally gotten Draco's attention, even if it was almost 5 years too late. That part of her whispered, why not find out exactly what kind of lover he could be?

Still, Draco was Harry's closest friend. They were all so close to the Weasley's, that they were thought of as honorary brothers and sister. If she gave into temptation, she might have to deal with seeing her old lover over a family dinner now and then for the rest of her life.

When she found herself touching the side of the pool again, she decided to stop and pull herself up-right. Her gaze immediately connected with Draco's silver one.

He was big and male and disturbingly close, beads of water clinging to his shoulders above the water line. "Nice swim, Granger. Is this how you keep in shape?"

"I enjoy a good swim now and then." She paused. "Alone."

He smiled. "Glad I've been let in on the secret ritual."

"Lucky me."

She swam away from him then toward the ladder at the side of the pool, water cascading from her body.

She grabbed a towel while he hauled himself out of the pool, too. As she headed toward the locker room, he called after her, "Meet you outside in twenty minutes."

She shot him a baleful look over her shoulder. He was shadowing her in the most literal way possible and it was all extremely disturbing.

An hour later, they arrived in front of the townhouse. Hermione followed Draco to the front door. The house was half open and visibly stuffed with catalogs and other mail.

He stepped around her before she could react and pulled out the mail in one swift move.

"Last time I checked," she said, her tone annoyed, "it is still a federal offense, in the muggle world, to interfere with the operation of the mail service."

"He smiled and watched her irritation grow. "Then consider it checking and not interfering."

She made a grab for the mail, but he moved his arm up and away from her. "Aren't you going to unlock the door?" he asked placidly.

"Don't patronize me."

"Just add it to my tab. I seem to be running a long one with you."

She gave him a haughty look. "That's funny, because I recall stopping your credit line a long time ago."

"Open the door." He nodded at the lock, then looked around. It was broad daylight, not even noon, but he didn't like standing out here with her. They made an easy target. She hadn't gotten any threats since he moved in with her, but he knew better than to let his guard down.

After she unlocked the door, he disengaged the alarm system with a simple wave of his wand. Then he took a moment to glance through her mail.

The lingerie catalog gave him a moment's pause as he wondered whether she actually wore stuff similar to the skimpy satin bra and undies on the cover.

Tossing the catalog aside, he stopped at a legal sized white envelope with no return address. He turned it over and, noticing nothing on the back, slid his finger under the flap to tear it open.

"That's my mail!" Hermione stormed back over to him from the table where she just set down her gym bag. "And don't tell me that you open you clients' mail, too"

He blocked her attempt to grab the envelope. "In fact, sometimes I do. When the job calls for it."

He slid the contents from the envelope and his blood ran cold. Hermione gasped beside him.

There were three photographs of Hermione going about her business. The photos were somewhat out of focus, but nevertheless the subject was unmistakable.

Angling himself away from her, he let his eyes scan the contents of the plan white sheet of paper that had fallen out with the photos. The three lines of text chilled him

JUST SO YOU KNOW IM WATCHING. I CAN TAKE YOU OUT ANYTIME.

IF YOU WANT TO LIVE, QUIT YOUR JOB AND GO ON VACTION WITH

THE MINISTRY'S MONEY.

Hermione made a grab for the material in his hand but he held up his arm. "What is it?" she demanded.

He debated for a second, but realized he'd have no peace until she found out, as much as he wanted to shield her. He wanted to kill the bastard who was threatening her. Tipping the contents of the envelope toward her, he said, "Take a look."

He watched her face blanch and cursed under his breath. "Don't touch anything. I am calling a friend to have them all tested for an identity."

She nodded, uncharacteristically silent.

"Do you recognize when these photos were taken?"

"Two or three weeks ago, I think." She looked up at him and her expression conveyed thinly veiled distress. "The first shot was taken in front of the cleaners. It looks as if the photo was taken from the park across the street."

"Okay, and do you recognize the two others?"

"I think so. I'm wearing something different, but I think those were taken a day apart."

He nodded and carefully set down the offending images and sheet of paper. "Good. That'll give my guys a good lead about wear to start asking questions to see if anyone remembers anything, though I doubt anyone will."

She waked a hand through her hair, the glossy locks cascading around her face. "This is ridiculous. I'm used to having my photo taken from time to time, but it's always been reporters flashing bulbs in my face at a press conference or a charity ball."

He raised an eyebrow. "Quite the popular little rich officer, aren't we?"

"Kiss my millionaire fanny, Malfoy."

He laughed, but he privately admitted the joke was on him: he'd certainly given more than a passing thought to kissing her all over.

But, he was glad to see his comment had its intended effect and there was some fire back in her eyes. That white-faced expression she'd been wearing was unlike her. And while he wanted her to appreciate the danger she could be in, he also didn't want this crazy nut to cow her and mark her for life.

She frowned. "His English skills aren't very good, are they?"

"Yeah, which does point to out man Higgs or, more precisely, one of his gang members who is behind bars."

"Hmm. Maybe." She looked unconvinced. "Or it could just be someone trying to throw us off the scent and point the finger elsewhere."

"What makes you think that?" He had his own theory in that regard, but he was interested in hearing hers.

She crossed her arms. "If one of Higgs's pals wanted me dead, I'd probably be gone—or at least, they wouldn't have bothered with a note.

He nodded. She obviously learned a few things at the ministry. He just wasn't sure if he liked her being acquainted with the seedier side of life. True he used to live in the diamond studded world, but he also knew how bad the alternative could be.

"The person doing this obviously wants to scare me," Hermione mused, "but so far he's hung back from doing more than threaten. So, again, we have a profile that might fit better with Bradley, who's a white-collar criminal."

"You know something, Hermione?"

"What?" Her chin came up, as if expecting a sarcastic remark.

"You took the words right out of my mouth."

Her shoulders relaxed a little. "That's probably the highest complement in your book."

**END OF CHAPTER 7**

A/N- I dedicate this chapter to intcrimgrrl. Thanks for the advice and I tried to include some more stalker information just for you.

Now I have hidden a stupid pun in the story. The reviewer who identifies correctly will get a SUPER HUGE PRIZE that they may or may not love. So give me a guess, and a review while your at it. 52!


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Under the Dragons Protection

Author: Ms. Dependent

Rating: PG-13 - R

Disclaimer: It's not mine. JKR rox me sox

AN- I have completely ignored HBP in this, though I do love the book. This is post Hogwarts about 4-5 years later.

**Chapter 8**

Hermione didn't know why she let Draco talk her into spending the weekend at his getaway cottage in Banstead. Somehow she let him convince her that she needed the change of scene.

She sat in the living room, her files around her, having spent the afternoon working on her brief response to Bradley's pre-trial motion to exclude certain evidence from being presented to the Wizagnot.

She could hear Draco moving around in the kitchen. After they'd gone into town for groceries, he'd gone to work at his desk. There were a lot of high-tech wizardry items scattered around it.

She was thankful that the last week had been less eventful than last Saturday. After they'd discovered the anonymous note in her mailbox, the rest of the day had been spent talking to the "friend" that Draco had brought to test the note.

They were informed that the only fingerprints on the note and photographs were Draco's, though the envelope had had many different prints, including probably that of the mailman.

Yet, despite the uneventfulness of the week, she hadn't felt relaxed. Whereas before she'd only thought someone might be watching her, the photographs confirmed that to be the case.

It was a spooky and unsettling thought. She now found herself turning around at odd moments, expecting to catch someone watching her.

So, at the end of the week, when Draco had argued she could work just as well at his country house as she could at the townhouse, she hadn't disagreed too strenuously. In fact, she admitted to herself, having him around made her feel safe. Perhaps it was the photos and the note that had done it, but she no longer had the same desire to get rid of him.

And going to Draco's place was a distraction. When they'd arrived that morning, she'd discovered that Draco's "getaway cottage" was a two-story, wood-frame structure nestled in the woods, well back from the road. It boasted four bedrooms, two baths, a spacious living kitchen, a living room, dining room, den, deck, and for good measure, a hot tub.

She tried hard not to think about the hot tub—and tried harder still not to think about the fact that her bedroom was next to his.

She looked through the sliding-glass door leading to the outdoor wooden deck and watched Draco fire up the barbecue grill. Beside him, plates held some steaks and potatoes, read for grilling.

Deciding it was time to put away her files for the evening, she rose and gathered up her papers, putting them in a neat stack on the end of the table.

When she got outside, Draco was nursing a beer and watching the rays of the disappearing sun twinkle through the branches of the trees.

He opened another beer and handed it to her.

"Thanks," she said, watching as he expertly used a long fork to turn the steaks. "You know I could get used to having you cook for me, Malfoy."

At his astonished look, she laughed. "But I suppose grilling is up there with manly pursuits like knowing how to open a beer bottle."

Seemingly despite himself he chuckled. Closing the barbecue, he said, "You got that right, Hermione. So the rest of the evening, remember that I'm the one in charge and your the deputy."

She rolled her eyes. "What do you mean for the rest of the evening? That's what you try to convince me every day."

"Right, but with little success." He nodded through the glass doors at the kitchen. "The rest of the stuff for dinner is in there."

Tossing him a look, she nevertheless took the hint and went to the kitchen. She returned with plates utensils, and napkins for the outdoor table. She also carried out the salad he'd left on the kitchen counter.

As she set the table, she cast him a surreptitious look. His faded jeans did little to hide the tight rear end. He wore his button-down black shirt open at the collar, where it revealed a small bit of the white undershirt he wore beneath. Overall, the effect was casual but sexy.

Until they'd actually sat down to eat, Hermione didn't realize how intimate it was to be having dinner alone with Draco, surrounded by the woods, eating food that he'd prepared. Despite that—or maybe as a distraction from it—the conversation flowed easily between them. They talked about the news, what England could do if they made it to the Quiditch World Cup, and if Ron was qualified to be the Minister of Magic.

As a result, by the time they were done eating, she was feeling pleasantly relaxed. So much so that she was able to say casually, "There's one thing I never understood about you, Malfoy."

"Only one?" He quirked a brow and sat back, looking amused. "What a letdown. I don't even qualify as complex, misunderstood, or—better yet—tortured?"

She rolled her eyes. "Harry Potter is tortured, you're just—" she paused to think for a few seconds "—inscrutable."

"Inscrutable?" He rubbed his chin. "Okay, I guess that's better than nothing. So, I suppose you're going to enlighten me about what makes me 'inscrutable'?"

Ignoring his mocking tone, she plunged ahead. "As I was saying, there's one major thing I haven't understood about you." She took a fortifying sip of her beer. "It's this whole upper-class business."

His expression, she noted, became ever so slightly shuttered.

Nevertheless, because she wasn't one to turn back once she'd started, she went on, "You lose all of your fortune, you start up again from scratch, protecting and serving the people you say you hate so much."

He shrugged. "But things worked out well." He nodded around him to the large house and surrounding tress. "Maybe, Granger, it was all part of my master plan."

She nodded. "Knowing you, I don't doubt it. What I want to know is, what is your master plan."

He looked amused. "You just keep probing until you get some answers, don't you? Which is probably what makes you such a good Officer."

"Don't try to sidetrack me with compliments." She steeled herself against his flattery and leaned forward in her seat. "Why go back to the upper crust? One would assume you have every reason not to, particularly since you blame them for your parents death."

"Am I being cross examined?" Draco's tone was casual, but she sensed an underlying tenseness in him.

Knowing that she was on to something, she ignored his question and said, instead, "Tell me about your parents." She added, gentling up her voice, "Please. I'd really like to know."

He saluted her with his empty beer bottle. "Okay, Hermione, I see I'm not going to throw you off."

She wondered if that were true. She got the feeling he was only going to tell her an answer because he wanted to—and she also sensed she was on terrain that Draco didn't ordinarily let people onto.

He was silent for a time, looking off into the distance before his gaze came back to her. "We both know that my father was a cold, heartless bastard. But my mother was the opposite. She taught me the usual, simple spells, Quiditch, what most parents do.

He blew out a breath, then continued, "My mother had this thing where she would try to make up for what my father did to me. Every time I was punished, she would be there with a gift, or even just a hug. It almost justified the way my father treated me, just to have her act so nice."

"Hmm," was all she said. She'd finally gotten him going and she wasn't going to give him the opportunity to get sidetracked by her commentary.

"Anyway, after my father was sent to Azkaban, mother and I got close. It was the best summer of my life, that is, until I was bombarded by request to join Voldemort in my fathers place."

"And you refused," she put in.

He nodded. "I didn't want to become father."

She waited for him to go on.

He took a swig of his beer, then squinted into the distance as if he was trying to make out something among the trees. "One day, after returning from Diagon Alley, I came home to find the Dark Mark over the Manor." He shifted his gaze back to hers. "You can guess what happened next.

Hermione flinched at the image he evoked.

Draco grinned crookedly. "You wanted to know."

"What I want to know is why you bury that story."

"Ever combative and feisty, aren't you?"

She frowned. "Maybe, but there's certainly nothing to be ashamed of in that story. I have no idea why you keep quiet about it. In fact—"

"In fact," he finished for her, "people might have felt sorry for me and gone out of there way to help, is that what you were going to say?"

"Well, yes—"

"And that's exactly what didn't want," he said, his look almost combative. "That's exactly how people who did know—the good ones—did act." His brows drew together. "I didn't need there sympathy. It wasn't going to bring my mother back. And I sure as hell didn't want anyone thinking I was trading on a tragedy."

His word were startling. And, yet, they were keeping with what she knew him to be: proud, tough, private.

"Curiosity satisfied, Hermione?" He asked, rising with his empty plate. His tone wasn't mocking just matter-of-fact.

"Thank you for telling me," she said simply, picking up her own plate and utensils and following him inside, where she deposited her load in the sink. "I can't even imagine how hard it was for you. You must have been lonely."

"No," he said shaking his head. "I was a terror. My mother was killed and I was mad as hell at the world. You may remember from year six, I fought I skipped classes, and took unnecessary risks. Just like a Golden boy we know. It was his friendship that turned me around. That, and my own realization that I had a brain and I might as well use it in a way that got me somewhere."

She went to perch on a bar stool. "Which brings me back to my original question. Why go back to the people responsible for your Mothers death? You could have gone anywhere, and you had every reason to."

"Like I said, you're tenacious." He gave her a once-over with his eyes, then smiled. "When I started my business, I was looking to keep overhead low. The property the Manor was on was the only thing the ministry let me keep. So built a small headquarters on it. It was as simple as that."

She nodded. Suddenly turning down a cushy book-related job for the Ministry while living in a townhouse in London didn't seem like so much of a sacrifice. "Every time I come across a profile of you in the newspapers or in magazines, they always mention that you headed back to your home to start your business."

He quirked a brow. "You read all the bios of me?"

She felt herself grow red. "Just when the only alternative is reading the instructions on the medicine bottles."

He grinned. "You don't give an inch do you?"

"You don't either," she retorted. "Anyway," she said, going back to the subject on hand, "Malfoy Security still has an office at the Manor, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, you could say that. . . ."

His hesitancy puzzled her. She knew that her information wasn't wrong and that question had almost been rhetorical. "Well, what else would you say?"

He coughed, then folded his arms.

"Yeees?" she prompted. If she didn't know better she'd say he looked uncomfortable.

"It's not really an office. It's more like a home for kids with no families."

She frowned a second, then laughed. "You mean you opened an orphanage there?"

He shifted. "That's about right."

The urge was irresistible. "Don't tell me the oh-so-tough Draco Malfoy has a soft spot. I'm delighted you've seen fit to do good in the world. I'm just surprised you're not doing something more tied to Malfoy Security's line of business."

He looked surprised for a second.

"What?"

"We are. Good guess." He added, "We offer self-defense classes and classes on home security."

"Ah." She said.

"What are you thinking?" he asked. "I can almost see the wheels turning in that head of yours."

She gave her head a slight shake, her lips curving upward. "It's hard to believe, but I was feeling almost inclined to like you."

He stared at her intensely for a moment, then said, "You should smile more often."

Their eyes caught and held before she looked away, feeling suddenly uncharacteristically shy and awkward.

Draco realized it was time to turn the tables on her. She probed and poked and made him realize and acknowledge more than he'd wanted to. He figured he was entitled to reciprocate. "Why do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Work at the Ministry when you clearly don't have to, and when you could have a gotten a cushier job, which is clearly what everyone expected you to do."

"The Ministry is the first time I felt I had established an identity on my own, I wasn't Hermione Granger, friend of Harry Potter—the savior of the wizarding world—or friend of Ron Weasley—next in line to be the Minister Of Magic."

"I see."

Her voice had risen half an octave and her words were coming out faster. He'd touched a nerve, that was for sure.

"Do you really, Draco?" she continued, "Because sometimes you act no better than them, like an overprotective brother."

"Believe me, the last thing I feel for you is brotherly," he said, half under his breath . Her impassioned speech had brought a spark to her eyes and a boldness to her body language that his libido was intuitively responding to.

"What?" she asked, although the arrested look on her face said that she'd heard him.

"Did you not hear me?" he asked, meeting her eyes directly. "Or is it that you just can't believe what you heard?"

All the reasons he'd give himself over the years not to test Hermione just flew out the window. In reality, he had already tested the waters where she concerned, and, now that he had a taste of her, the need for more was irresistible.

She gave a laugh that sounded forced. "I imagine it was hard to feel brotherly when I was a thorn in your side."

He pushed back from the counter. "Loss of courage isn't something I'd ever have thought to accuse you of."

They were alone in the woods together at the getaway cottage he'd recently finished building and where he'd brought no other woman. Suddenly, he didn't give a damn about the consequences of getting romantically involved with her. All that mattered was now.

The threat she'd gotten in the mail, the proof that some nut had been watching her, waiting to strike, all that hammered home that he could have lost her already.

He might not have tomorrow—to laugh with her, to make love to her—and he'd be damned if he was going to wonder any longer about what might, could, or should have been.

She straightened on the stool, her brows drawing together. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't you?" he asked softly. With two strides he was in front of her, within touching distance. To her credit, she stayed where she was, her chin coming up in that way she had when she was getting ready to sock it to him.

He almost smiled as he reached out to touch her.

"Don't" she said on a breath. It wasn't fear in her eyes—or panic—but a turbulent set of emotions.

"Why not?" The urge to touch her was overwhelming and there didn't seem to be a reason in the world not to give in to it. "Because you 'brothers' would beat me to a pulp?" He raised a thumb caressing her lower lip. "I think I'll risk it," he murmured.

**End of Chapter 8**

A/N- Yes that is a cliffhanger and No it wasn't on purpose. I truly hate typing so I think this is a good place to stop. DON'T HATE ME!

No one got the pun so here it is- _"Suit yourself," _read it in context. It will make sense.

This chapter is dedicated to Lyndie578, thanks your review made me happy. I will try to update soon, but only if you'll **review**.


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Under the Dragons Protection

Author: Ms. Dependent

Rating: PG-13 - R

Disclaimer: It's not mine. JKR rox me sox

AN- I have completely ignored HBP in this, though I do love the book. This is post Hogwarts about 4-5 years later.

I am back, earlier then usual, with the action packed 9th chapter of me story. ENJOY! and review.

**Chapter 9**

Hermione felt prickles of awareness all over her skin at Draco's touch. She knew if they slept together, nothing would be the same again.

This wasn't just about one kiss or one night. This was about getting tangled up with a man who wouldn't be as easy to handle as the ones she'd dated in the past. Draco would challenge her, and there'd be no smug assurance that she was in control.

When she still hadn't said anything, the light went out of Draco's eyes and his hand dropped away from her mouth. She hadn't voiced an invitation—and he hadn't read one in her eyes—so he was backing off.

In an instant, however, she knew she couldn't let this moment pass. He offered comfort and safety in a world that had become a much scarier place. And, while she knew she could always stand on her own two feet if she had to, she also knew that now—tonight—she wanted that comfort.

Suddenly, she couldn't wait to dive in to his arms. The possibility that she wouldn't be in control was more of a temptation that a risk to be avoided.

She slid off the stool, bringing them nearly flush against each other.

His usual cocky facade was not on display. Instead what she saw was raw hunger and naked desire.

Her breath caught in her throat. "Draco. . ."

She placed her hands on his chest and felt the strong, rhythmic beat of his heart. He held himself very still as she went up on tiptoe, searched his face, and then, slowly, very slowly, pressed her lips to his.

His mouth opened under the pressure of her lips, his lips rubbing, stroking against hers. He took his time—as if he had all the time in the world—letting her lead, then demanding more. Yet he help his arms at his sides, his mouth the only part building a response from her.

Yes, she thought, the man definitely knew how to kiss.

Just when she was on the point of making a sound of frustration, however, he appeased her need and wrapped his arms around her.

The kiss was deepened, his tongue slipping between her lips to swirl within her mouth and duel with hers.

She moaned and her fingers threaded through his hair. She couldn't get close enough to him—couldn't get enough of him.

When he finally tore his mouth from hers, he said huskily, "Wrap your legs around me." She readily complied and his hands splayed across her bottom, supporting her weight.

In this position, his erection pressed into the most intimate part and, instinctively, she rubbed against him.

He muttered an oath as he headed to the stairs leading to the bedrooms. "Do that again and we won't make it to the bed."

She laughed breathlessly. "What about the couch down here?"

He stopped for a second and gave her a smoldering look. "I want to see you lying in my bed. I want to see your thick, dark hair spread out across my pillow." He leaned forward so his forehead rested against hers, then added, his voice deep, "I want to see you, I want to hear you and, most importantly, I want to taste you while your lying on my bed."

"Is that an order?" she quipped.

He straightened and started up the stairs, hoisting her higher and giving her a wry grin. "No, but I hope I've answered your question. There _is_ a couch downstairs, but _we_ wont be using it."

"Can you hurry then?" She joked, almost hurting with the wanting. It seemed as if she'd been waiting for this moment forever and now she need threatened to sweep her away.

At the end of the hallway upstairs, he kicked open the door to his bedroom and, in two strides, crossed the room to the bed, coming down half on top of her.

There was almost no thought then: need consumed them. They were like two people who had crossed the desert and finally come to a steam of water.

She was dimly aware of kicking off her sandals and of Draco helping her slide her top over her head. Then with a flick of his fingers, he undid the front clasp of her bra.

"You're perfect," he groaned, his gaze hot on her breasts, which were capped by nipples that were tight and hard and peaked. Under his gaze they became even more so.

"There just average breast," she muttered embarrassed.

"Perfect," he repeated in a low voice. Then, with his eyes never leaving hers, he slowly lowered his head to one breast. She sighed when his mouth closed around one nipple.

Waves of sensation threatened to take her under as she watched him use his mouth on her.

When he moved his mouth to her other breast, she threaded her fingers through his hair and let her eyes close. A restless longing had taken hold of her, making her limbs quiver and suffusing her with liquid warmth.

His mouth left her breast and seized her lips and she wound her arms around his neck, meeting his questing mouth kiss for kiss until he finally pulled back with a groan and sat up.

She opened her eyes and nearly moaned in protest until she saw the desire written on his face. Raising herself to her elbows, she watched as he quickly rid himself of his shirt and then yanked the undershirt over his head.

His chest had only a sprinkling of hair, so there was little to conceal the muscles that defined his chest and upper arms.

She'd seen him shirtless several times over the years. She'd fantasized about touching him then. Now, she sat up to run her hands along the sculpted muscles.

"Yes, touch me," he muttered. "Make me burn."

She reveled in the power she had to affect him. She pressed her lips where her hands had been, placing hot wet kisses over the planes of his chest.

He stopped her only so he could rid them both of their shoes and jeans. He peeled the denim off her in one fluid movement, taking along the underwear underneath.

His hands splayed on her hips as they fell back onto the bed again and their lips met in a deep, hungry kiss.

His hand caressed her leg, then moved to her inner thigh, making her tingle with anticipation.

She tore her mouth from his. "Ah, Draco. . ."

"Shh," he said as his hand slid up to the juncture of her thighs. Holding her, his eyes steady on hers, his finger parted and caressed her inside.

"Oh!"

"Yes," he said in a smoky voice. "Let me hear how it makes you feel."

She clutched his shoulders, his look of possession the last thing she saw as her eyes closed and her world spiraled beyond everyday sensation in response to the sure and steady rhythm of his hand.

"Draco!" The cry was torn from her as she entered oblivion.

When Hermione floated back down to earth, Draco was lying next to her, facing her, his arm bent and his head propped up on his hand. His other hand was drawing lazy circles on her thigh.

She looked down as he followed her gaze.

"Yup, I still want you," he said, a hint of humor in his voice.

She looked back up at him. He was looking just a wee bit to pleased with himself, she decided. Giving him a coy look through her lashes, she said, "Well, thanks for everything," and made to rise.

Laughing, he pushed her back onto the bed. "Not so fast, Hermione. I think we have some unfinished business."

"Really?" She feigned innocence. "And that would be. . . ?"

Instead of responding, he drew her to him, his mouth coming down on hers, and she was lost again in a sea of emotion and sensation between them.

He was the most magnificent man she'd ever been with. Draco's physical size made her feel small and dainty. His scent—the warm muskiness of all-male—enveloped her.

He kissed her deeply, hungrily, his mouth plundering. She opened her mouth to him even as he parted her legs, making room for himself.

She reached down then and grasped his erection, stroking him until he released her mouth with a growl. "I'm about to come out of my skin."

"That's what I was hoping for," she teased.

"You don't have to hope any more," he countered, then smiled so wolfishly it made her giggle.

He opened a drawer in the night stand and retrieved a small foil packet. Turning back to her, he cleared his throat and said, "Before you jump to any conclusions, I'm going to tell you that you're the only woman I've ever brought out here with me."

She opened and shut her mouth.

"And secondly," he went on, "I didn't protection along because I was sure of myself. I just thought being prepared wouldn't be a bad idea given the fireworks exploding between us lately."

She felt ridiculously pleased about being the only woman he'd brought to his refuge in the country. She took the packet from him and, ignoring the surprised and then delighted look, rolled the protection slowly onto him.

"Ah, Hermione," he sighed.

She gave him a quick peck on the lips.

He spread her legs and then positioned himself. "Last chance, Granger," he said and, despite his light hearted tone, she knew he was holding himself in check.

In some ways, it seemed she'd been waiting for this moment her whole life. She'd be darned if she was going to retreat now—the consequences for tomorrow be damned. She was about to find out if the reality lived up to all her teenage fantasies.

"Not a hope, Malfoy." She wrapped her legs about him and raised her hips.

He groaned as he slid into her. "Ah, petunia—"

She gasped, then sighed.

He set a rhythm that she took up, meeting him with counter point thrust, the momentum building in tandem with the tension between them until it burst forth and sent her spiraling into a starry darkness, her hands clutching spasmodically on Draco's shoulders and feeling the thin sheen of sweat that had broken out on his skin.

Dimly, she heard him give a hoarse groan and take his own release.

Draco came back to reality slowly. He felt as if he'd passed through a wringer; he was spent, his muscles weak with release. Paradoxically he felt gloriously alive.

Before tonight, he'd thought the sexual tension between him and Hermione was a strong sign they'd be explosive in bed together.

He hadn't been wrong.

He glanced over at Hermione's sleeping face. Whether she was going to admit it or not, what they'd started tonight wasn't finished.

**End of Chapter 9**

A/n- oh yeah another chapter down. Which means another chapter dedication to do. gopher2806, this ones for you! By the way that whole Ron for Minister is a set up for the next story I am writing from this world. Which brings me to my next point. WHO SHOULD I PAIR RON WITH? If any one has any suggestions, please tell me.

Next on the list is the summary for this story. I want people to read this story, but I don't think the summary does it justice. If anyone has any summary suggestions, I would be happy to take them.

Lastly, I think this chapter was kind of short, so I am going to post again on Saturday with another short one. More action packed-ness coming soon. But if you don't review I will be to sad to sad to update, and I know you don't want that.

SO REVIEW! and answer my questions above if you can.


	10. Chapter 10

Title: Under the Dragons Protection

Author: Ms. Dependent

Rating: PG-13 - R

Disclaimer: It's not mine. JKR rox me sox

AN- I have completely ignored HBP in this, though I do love the book. This is post Hogwarts about 4-5 years later.

**Chapter 10**

Hermione woke to the smell of fresh coffee. Had she set the automatic timer on her coffee pot?

She rolled over and opened her eyes. Dark wood ceiling beams greeted her. She frowned, momentarily disoriented. Where was she?

And then it all came rushing back. . . . the death threat in the mail. . . . her agreement to come out to Draco's getaway cottage despite her better judgment. . . . the intimate dinner. . . . the two of them tangling the sheets together.

She flushed. He'd certainly lived up to her fantasies and then some.

They'd woken up in the middle of the night, and they'd had at each other in a way that had been just a bit less mind-blowing than the first time.

More importantly, she knew that last night she'd seen a side of Draco that he rarely let anyone glimpse. She'd seen vulnerability when he'd talked about his mother's death and she'd realized his protection instincts ran deep and strong.

Then he'd made love to her tenderly and passionately.

_Made love_. Was that literally what it had been?

Her mind shifted away from the question.

Certainly he desired her. She hugged the sheet to her as she thought about Draco's demonstration of desire last night.

She had to admit their relationship had changed irrevocably.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs.

She groaned. Leave it to Draco not to give her a moment to freshen up and look presentable.

"Rise and shine."

He was dressed in a beat-up T-shirt and jeans and his hair still appeared damp from his shower. He looked positively yummy.

A smile played at the corner of his lips. He held out the steaming cup in his hand. "I brought your shot of caffeine. I was going to hold it up under your nose to resuscitate you, but I see you're awake."

She sprang up in bed and held out her hands. "Bless you."

He handed her the cup and then sat on the side of the bed. "Cream, no sugar."

She sipped. "Mmm. Excellent. How did you guess?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "There are a few things I've picked up about you over the years. One of them is how you like your coffee."

"Part of your dossier on me?"

He looked at her enigmatically. "You could say that."

"Hmm." She lowered her eyes and sipped. "Thanks for bringing the coffee. It really wasn't necessary."

She again felt the same uncharacteristic shyness with him that she'd felt last night, before. . . .before. . . As she felt herself start to blush, she yanked her mind back from that trail of thought.

"Actually, it was necessary," he said matter-of-factly.

She quirked a brow, struggling for the casual, uncaring attitude that had been so easy to adopt where he was concerned—before last night.

"I'll admit to a selfish desire to see how you looked lying in my bed this morning."

She couldn't resist asking, "And how do I look?"

"Like a woman who's been thoroughly made love to." His eyes were hot. "Just like I imagined."

She felt herself heat. "Your crazy."

He nodded. "Yep, crazy for you. Though I have to admit jumping your bones last night was a good antidote for that. At least temporarily."

Oh, boy. Somehow Draco's new sexually tinged teasing was more dangerous than his old sarcastic tone.

"May need to inoculate myself every day though," he mused, making a show of rubbing his chin in thought. "Strikes me as the kind of thing that wears off easily."

She nearly choked on her coffee. Every day?

He looked amused as he caught her reaction. "Don't worry, Hermione. If last night was any measure, you're more than up to the task. I guess it shouldn't have come as a surprise that we'd be dynamic in bed together, given how we're used to ripping in to each other."

"Hmm," she said shrugging as if he'd just told her nothing more significant than what the weather was outside, "I guess I should be flattered."

He stood up, grinned. "Get dressed before I'm tempted to give you yet another demonstration of how flattered you should be."

**End of Chapter 10**

A/n- Okay now don't hate me. . . . .again. I know it is short, but I have a plan for this story It is all mapped out until the end. I just needed to get this little fun conversation out of the way so the plot could return next chapter, which will be posted on Wednesday. After that I will post every Wednesday until I am finished. When I post the epilogue for this, I will post the first chapter of my Ron story. That way I will get to focus on this until the end.(so don't worry muhaha)

Now for Ron. My favorite choices for him are Pansy Parkinson or Gabrielle Delacour. Please vote between the two—though it may not count if I can not come up with a decent plot.

This Chapter is dedicated to **CleverWitch **and to **NorthStar2005**. thank you northstar for the wonderful summary.


	11. Chapter 11

Title: Under the Dragons Protection

Author: Ms. Dependent

Rating: PG-13 - R

Disclaimer: It's not mine. JKR rox me sox

AN- I have completely ignored HBP in this, though I do love the book. This is post Hogwarts about 4-5 years later.

**Chapter 11**

Hermione cupped her chin in her hand and stared out at the rain from her kitchen window. She knew she probably had a dreamy, dopey expression on her face but it had been a week since they'd gotten back from Banstead and the week had been close to idyllic.

Her relationship with Draco had settled into a better routine, one tinged with tentative exploration. After Draco picked her up at the office, they usually cooked dinner together and then worked or watched a movie. She was pleasantly surprised to discover Draco's skills in the kitchen extended to more than cooking pancakes and grilling.

"Necessity," he'd said with a grin. "Single guy living alone either cooks or goes hungry. After a while, it gets boring eating food straight from a can."

She made a face and he laughed out loud.

Their evenings had usually ended in her candle-lit, floral-scented bedroom with its pointelle-blanket-covered brass bed. It had been amusing to watch Draco invade such a wildly feminine room and she'd laughed as he'd gingerly settled in.

Despite the threats looming over her head, the past week had left her with a feeling of contentment and a sense of well-being she'd never experienced before.

She knew she was in danger of falling in love with Draco. Rather than feel alarm, however, she felt joyously happy.

There was no doubt that Draco wanted her. Her face heated as she recalled how many different ways he'd demonstrated that. And—as she once told her best friend Ginny when she thought she'd been having trouble with Harry—want was often the road to love.

If Draco didn't love her yet, he nevertheless could come to realize he had deeper feelings for her. Especially if the future was anything like the past week.

She glanced up at the late-Saturday sky again. The rain hadn't let up and Draco still hadn't returned from his business meeting. She'd been expecting him an hour ago so they could run some errands, the most important of which was to pick up some more groceries.

She'd been planning all day for a candlelit dinner. Just the two of them, clinking wineglasses, tasting her pear salad, and then dining on a meal of pheasant with pecan stuffing, creamed spinach, and roasted tomatoes.

The salad was in the refrigerator, the ingredients for the creamed spinach ready to be combined on the stove top, and the pheasant and tomatoes prepared and ready to slide into the oven as soon as Draco got back.

She looked at her watch. Six-thirty. Where was he? His meeting with out-of-town clients must be running late.

She wondered whether she had time to run out before he got back. Most of the groceries she needed could wait for tomorrow, but she'd discovered an hour ago that she was a few ingredients short for the pie she'd been planning to make for dessert.

She glanced at her watch again and bit her lip. She could dash out to the supermarket and be back in no time. Draco wouldn't even have to know.

Her mind made up, she grabbed a sheet of paper and scribbled a note just in case Draco got back before she did: "Out to the supermarket. Back soon." She used tape to attach it to the mirror by the front door , then grabbed her purse and apparated near the supermarket.

As she thought, it took her no time at all to get through the check-out line. The rain meant the store was more empty than usual.

When she got outside again the rain had stopped, but the overcast sky and fog made everything look dreary and dark.

She started across the parking lot to find an empty place to apparate, juggling her two bags and her purse. She accidentally dropped her purse and bent down to pick it up.

"Pop." She heard in the distance and automatically straitened up.

A voice was heard yelling as a shot of green light sped past her, quickly followed by another. She ducked, as a windshield of a nearby car shattered.

Her mind raced frantically as she searched for her wand. It wasn't there. She straightened up a little, risking a glance over the cars to get a look at her attacker, but didn't see anything.

At the sound of feet pounding the pavement, she crouched down.

"Hermione! For God's sake, stay down."

It was Draco's voice shouting to her as he ran past, even as she heard the 'pop' of her attacker escaping.

"Dammit!" Draco said.

He cursed some more as Hermione heard him coming back toward her.

She straightened, pushing her hair out of her face, and stepped between the parked cars.

"I tried to get a shot at him, but he was to far away," Draco said breathing heavily.

Her eyes shot downward and saw the wand in his hand.

When her gaze moved upward again, she focused for the first time on Draco's face.

He looked mad as hell.

When they got back to the town house, Draco kept a grip on his temper. But only because he had to.

They'd finished talking to the aurors, who where taking care of the scene around the parking lot. Fortunately no muggles had been around, but that also meant there was no one to identify the attacker.

In any case, the profile of Hermione's unknown harasser that he and Hermione had constructed could be thrown out the window.

The assailant had now done more then mearly threaten. He'd shown he was desperate enough to try a direct attack on Hermione. Not only that, but, chillingly, he'd known when she'd apparated from inside her home to the supermarket.

Still, Draco wasn't convinced that the signs pointed to a member of Higgs' gang rather then a white-collar criminal such as Bradley. Hermione's assailant had proved—fortunately—not to have good aim. While it was possible that the incident in the parking lot had been a gang inspired shooting, the fact that the job had been so botched raised questions in Draco's mind.

The minute he'd gotten back to the townhouse and found the note Hermione left behind, he'd taken off after her. When he'd gotten to the parking lot, He heard the voice call out. Icy fear had wrapped around his heart as he reached for his wand.

He gave a quick glance at Hermione sitting on the couch. She looked straight ahead, still appearing shaken by what had transpired in the last couple of hours.

Silence reigned between them as he sat down next to her. Draco decided it was time to get some answers. "I have a distinct memory of telling you to stay put," he said tightly. "Correct me if I am wrong, but running out to the supermarket does not count as staying put."

"You were delayed," she responded, irritation lacing her voice. "And, anyway, I refuse to be a prisoner in my own home."

"Right," he said harshly as he turned to her. "It appears you'd rather be dead."

She turned to face him, temper flaring in her eyes. "That's blunt," she fired back. "Anyway, even if you'd been with me, I might still have gotten attacked."

"True, but it's all about the odds, and it would have been less likely," he snarled back. "He or whoever it was who threw those spells at you, would have thought twice about it if you looked like you had security."

"If only I had my wand." she mumbled under her breath.

"What was that, Hermione?" he said his tone scornful.

He didn't hear her and she didn't repeat it. It would only add fuel to the fire. "I cant believe you chased that nut," she said quickly. "You could have been killed!"

Worried about him, was she? Under different circumstances, he'd have been pleased, but right now he was still furious about the way she'd completely disregarded his instructions. "So why did you run out?" he asked. "What was so important you couldn't wait for me to get back?"

She went still, looking away, then glancing back.

She appeared embarrassed, though that didn't make sense. "What?"

"I was planning a romantic dinner," she said finally. "For two. I needed some ingredients."

Her admission floored him. That was it? That was the important errand she'd told the aurors that she had to run? He'd have been happy munching on cardboard if it kept her inside!

Hermione's admission brought home an unpleasant truth: they'd both gotten more focused on exploring the new-found physical chemistry between them than on keeping her safe.

Instead of thinking of him as a bodyguard whose orders should be followed to a T, Hermione had been thinking of him as a lover who wouldn't necessarily get furious with her for disregarding what he'd said. She'd gone out and risked her life because she'd been planning to surprise him with a romantic dinner, for god's sake.

For his part, as much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, sleeping with her had changed everything. He wasn't the cool-headed expert he needed to be in dangerous situations. Instead, he was running on emotion because the thought of anything happening to her tied him up in knots.

Aloud he said, "That's it? You ran out to the store so you could cook dinner?" He raked his fingers through his hair. "Where was your judgment?"

She folded her arms. "Obviously, in the wrong place," she said sarcastically, "if I was thinking of cooking dinner for you. Clearly I was wasting my time."

Anger battled with relief inside of him. "You're still the rash, know-it-all, griffindor, aren't you? When are you going to think before you act?"

"Well, I'm thinking now," she said coldly, dropping her arms. "And what I'm thinking is that taking our relationship to the next level was a mistake." She gave him a look of disdain. "I should have known."

She should have known? Heck, _he_ should have known. He should have known better than to get involved with her.

Still, the fact that she brought up their different backgrounds in an argument riled him up. "You can try chalking me up as a mistake," he said silkily, "but we're dynamic in bed together."

"Go to—"

"I'm betting," he said, cutting her off, "that the other boys haven't done nearly a good job of satisfying you, have they? Otherwise you wouldn't be looking to for a roll in the sack with a guy who's seen the seedier side of life."

Her face grew pale with anger. "That's right, Malfoy, and I'm glad you realized it, because that's all you were. A nice little frolic," she said, her voice haughty with disdain, "but certainly not someone I'd have a real relationship with."

He grabbed her arm as she stood up to leave, whirling her to face him, but she shrugged off his hand.

"Give it up!" she said, her eyes flashing.

Ignoring her request, he followed her to the kitchen. They weren't done, not by a long shot. That she'd even try to dismiss him as nothing more than a quick fling had him seething.

Entering the kitchen, she sent over to the sink.

"Dammit, we're not done."

"Oh, were done all right," she said without turning around, starting to rinse a glass. "Done, over, finished."

He laughed derisively. "You can't possibly believe that."

"What I believe, Malfoy," she said turning around, "is that you need to cool off!"

A spray of water hit him square in the face before he could react. "What the—!" Raising his arms to shield his face, he stalked toward her.

They wrestled with the hose from the sink, water dousing them both, until he was able to yank the nozzle out of her hand.

He was about to let her know exactly what he thought when his gaze dropped a notch, connecting with the front of his white shirt, which was plastered to her, her nipples clearly visible though the clingy fabric of her wet bra and shirt.

His blood heated.

She raised her arms to shield herself.

"Don't," he muttered.

She went still. "Damn you, Malfoy," she whispered. "I don't want this."

He razed his gaze, meeting her eyes. "Whether we want it or not seems almost beside the point," he said in a bemused voice. "It's there between us and has always been."

She tossed her head, wet strands of hair sending droplets onto them both. "I don't know what you mean."

"Liar," he chided softly, moving before her.

They were practically toe-to-toe now. He let his eyes drop down to her mouth, which parted on a soft breath.

"That's right, darling," he taunted. "Let me see how you feel."

Her eyes sparked fire. "Go to—"

His head swooped down then and swallowed the end of her sentence in a kiss that was searing and desperate—as searing and desperate as his hot need for her.

He was still running on the remnants of the adrenaline that had started earlier in the parking lot, except that now the reality of their near brush with death, mixed with relief, was channeling that energy into a need for sexual release. Even understanding what was provoking him, however, was not enough for his intellect to overcome his baser instincts.

She moaned in his arms, meeting him kiss for desperate kiss, her hands tangling in his hair, anchoring him.

He lifted her up onto the kitchen counter, sandwiching himself between her legs as her skirt rode high on her thighs.

The need to affirm life, to stamp her as his, was overwhelming.

Hot mouth met hot mouth in desperate soul-stirring kisses. He hungered to be inside her, to give vent to his frustration by seeking the release he knew awaited him there.

He lifted his head and yanked her shirt out of the waistband of her skirt, popping the buttons on the front of the garment in his haste to rid her of it.

When he'd peeled the shirt off of her, he bent his head close to his moth over the peak of one breast though the fabric of her bra.

She made a sound that came out as half laugh, half gasp. "Draco!"

He shifted his mouth to her other breast, his hand at her back to urge her forward into his mouth.

He felt her fingers threading through his hair, her breath coming rapidly. "Please," she gasped.

Her need inflamed him.

Raiding his head, he let her tug him back to her as she pulled at the bottom of his shirt to loosen it from his jeans.

Their movements were jerky and desperate at they both attempted to rid him of his wet shirt.

As the shirt dropped to the floor, he realized they weren't going to be able to wait much longer. "Hang on," he said roughly, unsnapping his jeans and tugging down the zipper.

"Yes," she said breathlessly.

He fumbled with a foil packet from his wallet. Then his fingers pushed inside her underwear. Testing and finding her warm and wet, he groaned.

"Draco," she said, her voice cloudy with passion.

He shifted, pulling her forward to the edge of the counter, and then over, sliding her down on him even as he pushed upward.

She gasped. "Please, yes."

He took up a rhythm then, abandoning himself to turbulent sensation and fiery passion as she clung to him, her legs wrapped around him, her head nestled in the curve of his shoulder and he breathing rapid.

His muscles strained, and his breathing grew more labored as the tension mounted. She moaned, and arched in his arms.

Their mutual release when it came was quick and powerful. He felt her tense, gasp, call his name, seconds before he lost himself in oblivion.

**End of Chapter 11**

A/n- Thanks to everyone who reviewed. They made me smile so much. By the way, this was the first time I tried doing an "action" type scene and I am not sure how it turned out. I might in the next story just stick to fun conversations and romance.

Speaking of romance, The lucky lady who gets to be Ron's love is Pansy Parkinson. And that means I get to create a whole new fun persona. I totally look forward to it.

REVIEW PLEASE! Tell me if I should never write again. 126!


	12. Chapter 12

Title: Under the Dragons Protection

Author: Ms. Dependent

Rating: PG-13 - R

Disclaimer: It's not mine. JKR rox me sox

AN- I have completely ignored HBP in this, though I do love the book. This is post Hogwarts about 4-5 years later.

**Chapter 12**

Tap, tap, tap. Realizing she'd again been lost in thought, Hermione put down the quill she'd been tapping against the desk that she sometimes called hers in the Magical Law Enforcement Office.

The events of Saturday night replayed themselves in her mind.

What had he called he? _A _rash, _know-it-all, griffindor_.

How dare he! He'd spoken and acted as if he thought she hadn't changed much, as if she were still a teenager. Even now, having a deeper appreciation for how his protective instincts had developed, she couldn't excuse how he'd dismissively labeled her.

His words and actions ranked all the more because this time, instead of having a tiny secret crush on him, she'd slept with him. She'd let him strip her bare both physically and emotionally. The betrayal this time was oh so much worse.

She'd begun to think they had a new understanding, one based on mutual respect. Instead, he'd apparently been thinking of her as nothing more than a headstrong griffindor, albeit one with whom he enjoyed amazing chemistry.

In fact, after the attack, he'd acted just like her other friends with his overprotectiveness. He'd lit into her as if she was a teenager lacking judgment.

Her lips tightened reflexively.

Their relationship—however short lived—had been a mistake. Of that, she was now certain. There was no way they could have a real relationship—one based on mutual trust and respect—when he'd made it clear he saw her as nothing more than a sheltered princess.

She'd been insane to have been planning to welcome him home with a romantic dinner. Ironically, thanks to their argument, she now agreed with him about going out without ingredients for dessert.

She should have nuked some macaroni and cheese, slid a bowl at him, and told him that he was sinning in style. Or, better yet, handed him a spoon and invited him to enjoy the stuff directly from a can.

Men were such animals.

Speaking of which. . . .her face burned as she remembered the frenzied interlude on the kitchen counter that had followed their argument.

She should have kneed him and walked away. Instead, a combustible combination of relief at having escaped unharmed and anger at him had led her to sizzling sex—as if Draco needed any further evidence that, if nothing else, they were great lovers.

She wondered at the reference he'd made o the attraction that had always been between them. Could he have known about her teenage infatuation with him?

At least she hadn't admitted her teenage in infatuation to him. That would have made her humiliation complete.

Her phone rang, startling her out of her thoughts. (A/n- yeah I gave her a phone, so sue me.) Picking up the receiver, she said, "Hello?"

"Hermione!"

"Hello, Harry." She made her voice sound cool. Her friend was still on her less-than-wonderful persons list.

"Thank god you're okay!"

Someone had obviously spilled the beans to Harry about Saturday's incident—the details of which had miraculously stayed out of the newspaper—and she had a goo idea who that someone was. She sighed. "Yes, I'm fine. No need to worry."

"No need to worry?" Harry said, sounding uncharacteristically agitated. "Are you crazy? You could have been killed and that's all you have to say?"

"Well, as you can tell, I wasn't. So, sorry to say, you still have me to torment you."

"Quit it with the glibness, Mione," Harry said impatiently. "You're just lucky the Weasleys are on vacation in America at the moment and Ron is on a business trip. Otherwise, they'd all be descending on you."

"Don't I know it," she muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Heck, I would be there myself if I didn't have some VIPs coming into the office this morning," Harry said. "Anyway, Draco assured me that he has everything under control."

Her hand tightened on the receiver. "Oh, he did, did he?"

she heard Harry sigh. "Hermione, for the love of god, would you just try listening to Draco for a change? I know you two can barely stand each other—"

She wondered what Harry's reaction would have been if he'd known she and Draco had recently found one area where they could deal with each other.

"—but he's there to protect you," Harry continued, "and he's one of the best in the business. So would you quit trying to make the guy's job harder then it has to be?"

"And I still have a job to do, Harry," she said, her tone clipped, "and that's putting the baddies behind bars. Unfortunately, that may involve some risk."

"Right and that's the other thing." Harry paused and cleared his thought, seeming to choose his words carefully. "Have you thought about what you're going to do after the Ministry? You've been there, what? Four or five years?"

"Close to five. But whose counting when you're having fun?"

"I don't think we can take much more of this, Hermione. This last episode with you getting attacked may be the nail in the coffin for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley."

She closed her eyes. "You've told them?"

"Not yet, but someone has to because the papers may link your name to the attack sooner or later," he said significantly.

She opened her eyes again. "Fine, I know."

"All I'm saying is you may want to start thinking about when this stint at that Ministry is going to end. It's to dangerous. Draco says the usual stint is three years or so."

Draco said that, had he? She'd be interested in knowing what else Draco had said. "Maybe it isn't just a stint. Have you ever thought about that? Maybe I want to be the head of Magical Law Enforcement someday."

Harry didn't say anything but a distinct sigh came over the line.

"Besides," she persisted, "I'm not the only one taking risks, Harry. You are the last person who can say I have a tough job."

"All right, but the fact of the matter is it is you," Harry argued. "You've been the one getting threats. _You've_ been the one getting attacked. And, you can't tell me that your name and wealth and high profile don't put you at special risk."

She thought about the phone threat she'd gotten. Harry had inadvertently hit the mark. Aloud, she said, "I'm not going to be boxed in by a whole set of rules just because of my name."

Harry started to interrupted, but she went on, "And you can tell your friend Draco not to worry. I wont be trying to cook dinner for him again anytime soon."

If it were possible, she was even more annoyed with Draco by the time she got off the phone.

Ratted her out to her friends again, had he? HE hadn't even waited for her to tell them in her own way. Instead, he'd lost no time in spilling the entire story to Harry as if she were then newest piece of gossip.

Had he also had the gall to suggest to Harry that she should be looking to move on from the Magical Law Enforcement office because the job had become to dangerous for her? Is that how the thought had occurred to Harry?

She wouldn't put it past Draco.

She narrowed her eyes. If Draco thought things were icy between them now, she fumed, he'd better get ready for the deep freeze.

**End of Chapter 12**

A/n- Its late, I know, get over it. College Applications, Report Cards, and SATs have been ruining my Month so I don't want to hear any one say this chapter is to short. If no one mentions the length of the chapter when they review I will update by Monday. Please, have mercy and ignore my semi-grumpy mood.


	13. NOTE

Dear Readers,

I cannot believe it's been a year since I updated this story. The last authors note I made complained about college applications and SATs, which was one of the weirdest things for me to go back and read. I am now in college(WOOT!!) But time hasn't been a very easy thing to manage. I am sorry that I didn't get to write a note sooner, but I forgot I had this story put up. I am not sure if anyone still cares, but I don't think I will be finishing this story. My old computer blew up(literally) after posting the 12th chapter and I lost the rest of the story and the notes I had written on it. Today, I reread it, and though know who the stalker was, I don't remember what was going to happen in the rest of the story.

So, here are the choices. . .

1.) I can leave the story up until I can come up with an ending. Then I would get the story beta'd and repost the entire thing.

Or. . .

2.) I can pull the story down and send it to someone else that wants to finish it or redo it.

Or. . .

3.) I can delete the story and the account and never be heard from again.

If there are any readers/reviewers out there. This is your chance to vote or volunteer to finish it. The default choice is #3, and that is what I will be doing if no one replies.

Review you vote now.

-Ms Dependent


	14. NOTE 2

Dear Readers,

It's funny how all of the reviews I got reminded me why I was writing the story in the first place.

I have found a beta, and will be removing the story and reposting one chapter at a time starting whenever I get the chapter back from my beta. I am sorry for those of you who just read it and will have to wait for the end, but this will give me time to finish the whole story. I promise I will not abandon this.

Ms. Dependent


End file.
